No Backward Glances
by Why Fireflies Flash
Summary: "Your face..." she started breathlessly. Theresa still touched the creases that his skin dipped down to. Erik sat there unmoving, staring at her. Her eyes welled up with tears as she continued, her bottom lip trembled. "I can't imagine the life that you've known." OC/OC and Erik/OC
1. Six Years Later

_**Hello everyone! Remember me? I deleted this story two months ago, and I think it's time to bring it back again. I deleted mostly because I didn't know how to continue it and I felt that I was stuck on it for too long. And plus I had a lot on my plate while writing this. My cousin was diagnosed with HIV, which really hit hard in my family including me, I've been busy with finals and a bunch of testing, and I got bored a lot writing this story and soon it felt like something I had to do and not what I want to do. I did feel bad for doing what I did, and I had full intent on reposting it again. So why now? I kinda missed it a little. I enjoyed writing it before I got less into it and I found it a lot of fun. **_

_**Though, I am very busy. I have a lot of 18 chapters for this story ready to post. Some chapters are different from others and will include new dialogue. Some will just be the same, but are more edited than they were before. There will definitely be more detail in the plot and more little things that will add more substance to the plot as well. I'm not going to repost the same stuff most of the time, I know that's boring for those who read this story already. Unfortunately the first chapter is one of those chapters that I only edited and added a bit more detail too. Nothing new really since I couldn't see any changes to it.**_

_**But I think I should stop talking now lol. And I hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

_**Warning: There will be some violence in the Phantom's Opera House.**_

_**Summary: "Your face..." she started breathlessly. Theresa still touched the creases that his skin dipped down to. Erik sat there unmoving, staring at her. Her eyes welled up with tears as she continued, her bottom lip trembled. "I can't imagine the life that you've known." OC/OC and Erik/OC**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera movie, Broadway musical, the book, nor its characters. But I do own my OC, Theresa and my OC, Henri.**_

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_Chapter I: Six Years After_

_Paris, France. May 13th,1877._

It took a while and plenty amounts of money to get the _Opera Populaire _back in the buds of business, which now made the pockets of both Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin very light indeed. Although, it was only one of the two of them that were worried about it being less than prosperous because of the 'incident' with the Phantom of the Opera six years ago, they decided to give it another chance after many indecisive thoughts the two shared. Though, they were debating yes and no for several years before actually starting to rebuild, they had put it on sale for those who would want to own the House themselves. They were unsuccessful in that, for many people in France were nervous of the _rumours_ that were heard after it burned almost completely to the ground.

They were stuck with it, and they were doubtful they were going to go back into the junk business. Their names in that field had been long-lost and they would most likely not regain their fortune again from it.

However they knew the business of Opera was infinitely better than the junk—oh, scrap metal—business... by far! And as Monsieur Firmin would say, 'Free publicity will get the seats sold!' It was only proven true when there were papers printed about both of their sopranos, La Carlotta and Ms. Christine Daae, not being at the Opera house and still every seat was sold! The managers had the feeling that, though the Opera House had its dark history, the people would buy out the theatre and still see the shows.

This time they were going to be _careful_. They learned their lesson with not following the orders of the Phantom last time. If he was even there still, they were going to follow them and let it not ruin their business once again! Orders like: leaving Box 5 _empty_, and his pay, no matter how outrageous it would seem!

The decision was a hard one indeed, risking their ruined names to be even more ruined, but they made it anyway.

It took much pleading, but Madame Giry agreed to even train the ballerinas and choreograph them for the coming operas, which showed André and Firmin that there was still hope for this business that they could have. It was nerve-wrecking because her answer was the one they relied on. They knew Giry loved the _Opera Populaire,_ as for her daughter, since the two grew up in it, so to have the two come back was amazing. Hopefully, since it was May, it would bud like the coming flowers from the previous showers in April.

Of course, however, for months while reconstructing and getting it back together, not everyone wanted to deal with the ghost of the _Opera Populaire _ever again. So, a good handful of their dancers and singers didn't even want to try and give it a second chance! Not even, La Carlotta, the leading soprano for five seasons in 1870 didn't want her usual limelight that she would get. She was still spooked, it seemed, by Piangi's death! It seemed to them the rumours were all true, she was actually romantically involved with him.

So, when their former Prima Donna said _no_ and for real this time, they put all their hopes on Christine Daae, who eventually married the Vicomte De Chagny after a year since the great theatre burned almost completely down. She had been continuing with opera only doing it very rarely. When they gained their contact with her, they learned that she already was a mother! To a lovely little by the name of Gustav, after her own father. But, being now a mother and being the Opera Ghost's former... interest, she was expected to deny their offer of coming back to become their Prima Donna... and she did what was expected of her.

Now they needed a head soprano along with a head male. The male was easier than they thought, they found a man that was far slimmer than what Piangi was and he even sounded, well, better. It was fresh and he didn't have the personality that would become conceited with limelight at all. His name? Why, his name was Henri D'Aubigne. He came from a wealthy family in France and even offered to pay some of the debt of construction of the _Opera Populaire_. He was a worthy fellow, who had brown locks that were extremely curly. His eyes were greyish with a tint of blue, but in the light they were bluer than the sea. He had the stage presence and the talent to go along with it.

Then the matter of their soprano came to them with great hardship! Who was worthy to follow in the footsteps of La Carlotta and Ms. Daae? It was tough, their search, but really, they didn't have to search at all. The woman found _them_ in their time of need. Like Carlotta, she was Italian. She did come from the deep country of Italy, having a thick accent and long brown hair. Her hair wasn't curly, but it had its potential to be when it was in its natural waves. Her eyes were hazel, they assumed anyway. While speaking with her, sometimes they would seem green and other times they would seem to be brown.

Yes, she was going to be their new star! Both Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin could agree on that. Ms. Theresa Baccelli didn't even sing with an accent! Her voice was so angelic that they felt the audience would melt, with any opera, from the emotion in her voice. Even her name was of a saint's!

The two were going to be promptly introduced to the people at the ball tomorrow. Along with their new patron, who was not the Vicomte De Chagny, no, but it was his older brother, the _Comte_ De Chagny, whose name was reportedly Philippe. Both Theresa and Henri made their introductions to those who have lived in the dormitories, they were already practising and living there as a matter of fact at that very moment!

The familiar scene of the _Opera Populaire _opened up in front of the two managers and they gazed at it like they had when they were introduced to it the first time six years ago. When their carriage stopped, the door opened and the two men were helped out of it slowly, both grinning with delight that they actually had done what they believed to be impossible.

"Welcome back, Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André." Madame Giry's voice brought them back to slight reality and the two managers looked over at the familiar blonde who seemed to actually grow older in the six years. Or was it that she looked older? Though, she did seem to be going into, maybe, her early forties. The sun reflected onto the the gold of the building to show that its elegance had indeed returned. It looked well fit in the area of Paris and it didn't at all seem like it was absent where it had stood there for years.

"Ah, Madame Giry," Monsieur Firmin looked over at her with slight delight and his grin grew larger. He continued, "A welcome back indeed, the outside of this house looks splendid," they hadn't been able to go yet to inspect or look around to see the refurbished Opera House. Though, they received a letter not too long ago to come and see, maybe it was a week ago that they actually received it, they weren't sure, but it was definitely some time ago.

Monsieur André seemed to agree with him also, adding after, "Oui, magnifique!"

Madame Giry smiled at the two of them, though she was one of the many that doubted here, and nodded. "If you think that about the outside," she started, walking ahead of them for them to follow her so she could lead them inside, "wait until you see what lies inside." The two men looked at each other, both still grinning and hurried their way to follow the choreographer and former ballerina. When Madame Giry opened the double doors to go inside, the two men stopped midway with their eyes widening. What a surprise! It looked almost exactly the same like it had before the chandelier fell! Purely remarkable, and the mangers could see the new additions.

The new gold sculptures that bordered the foyer, the fresh smell of the flowers filled the room, and the floor had a slightly different tiling with the same colour scheme. Each item that the room held and each step and tile that was there were all polished to such a shine that they could see themselves in it almost perfectly without a single smudge of dirt in the way of it! They were absolutely amazed. Madame Giry seemed very pleased by their reaction, "I am proud to say that your workers had worked long hours of the day to get this back to its prime, I think they achieved that goal very well."

Monsieur Firmin nodded, agreeing with her. He stopped looking at it gapingly, knowing that the foyer was not the area where the most damage took its place. He responded, "They indeed have."

Monsieur André stopped as well and commented, "It doesn't even look like a fire ignited here!"

Madame Giry looked around as well and nodded her head, not gaining any excitement that actually equated to the excitement of the two men. "Well, let me assure you that the rest doesn't look like that either," Madame Giry looked around again, as if she was feeling someone else present with them in the shadows, but shrugged it off, knowing that he wasn't found after the fire. She gestured to the two men, "Come with me now, you must take a look at the beloved theatre." She moved ahead again only to have the two mangers follow her in a rush. She warned as she picked up her black dress to not let it drag behind her, "Let me warn you now that rehearsal is under way, so if you please hurry, I only excused myself for only a little bit."

Monsieur Firmin nodded and asked while they walked the familiar route to the theatre, "Tell me, how are the dancers and singers taking their return here?"

André made sure to quickly correct that, "For those that actually decided to come back and join us."

"All very well," Giry answered them both as they entered where the maids, the tailors, and the stage workers stayed. André looked around to see the same activity go on from three years ago as though nothing ever happened. She added, "Their passions for the arts have never weakened. They practice for hours each day with very few stops."

"And for those who are new?" Firmin then asked, satisfied to hear that the dancers and singers that were coming back were still passionate and focused on their work.

Madame Giry mused, she didn't state how they were working, but like the veterans they never stopped either, especially their two new leads. "I have great feelings for the coming season, Monsieur Firmin. We will have plenty of surprises that are already waiting for us, I feel."

André muttered under his breath, which was only meant for his colleague to hear, "Hopefully it would be _good_ surprises."

"Don't worry about that, monsieur." Madame Giry turned on her heel to face them, with her welcoming smile dropping. She didn't know if she should smile that their artist had disappeared six years ago. His operas were to be missed dearly by her and who knows what horrors he was facing in the world now. She added, holding up her hand, "The Opera Ghost had disappeared after the incident from his lair below. If you haven't heard already, he left behind his white mask along with anything else that he owned there as well." When she saw their faces cross with relief, she kept her hand up and warned, "But even if he was, be sure to follow his demands, you two have learned your lesson, I feel."

Firmin gulped and shivered for the grim remainder of Joseph Buquet being strangled while the noose was tightened around his neck had appeared. He admitted as she turned back around, "More than learned, actually." They found that she was yet again moving and that they were yet again far behind her. The both were frowning as they tried to catch up to her again. Another question lurked in Firmin's mind, being actually reminded of their new soprano. When he caught up to Madame Giry, he quietly asked with his eyes wandering in case she was near, "Does she know about...?" He trailed off, assuming that she already knew.

André took time to add after to her, knowing where Monsieur Firmin was going with his question, "Is she still in the dark?"

Giry stopped for a moment and looked at the two managers that were on either side of her. She sighed and stated with a frown, "Unfortunately, she still is," she paused, knowing that it wouldn't be too long before she would know the truth, "but be warned, she would soon find out from the loose tongues around here." Although Madame Giry knew the source of their anxiety they had nothing to worry about. The woman had been grateful that she was there and showed nothing but enthusiasm since she came. It was very unlikely that she would leave because of an incident that happened to happen six years back.

"Well, we must make sure that that does not happen, Madame Giry," Monsieur Firmin stated, looking ahead of him. The familiar sound of the orchestra that Monsieur Reyer conducted filled his ears sweetly and he could hear the chorus girls from where he stood. He had forgotten the opera they were performing, but whatever it was it sounded interesting from the faint sounds that he had heard already. "Now, what is the opera that we're to be performing a week from now?"

Madame Giry answered dryly as they continued their way, "The Scottish Play." The Scottish Play? Did it not have a name? "By the recently famous Verdi."

André gotten it right away, remembering bits and pieces of what he had heard about it, "Oh, Mac—."

"Don't say his name," she scowled at him, "it's bad luck to say the name in the theatre."

"Is it really? What would happen if we do?" Firmin inquired curiously as they inched closer to the theatre.

She replied simply as they walked their way to the backstage, "Bad things, monsieur. Bad things."

André and Firmin exchanged a look before entering the stage where everything was on its way to become perfection. The two didn't know why they would even approve such an opera with bad luck involved, nor did they understand why their patron would even approve of such things. But their thoughts soon were extinguished when they heard the chorus more clearly, they looked around in awe to see the dancers, some warming up and some going over steps. Then when they looked around the theatre they were truly awestruck.

It wasn't in shambles! It was a miracle by far that they had recovered almost every single detail of the theatre.

The gold figures on the boxes, the red carpeting of the room, the red seat comforters... everything! The candle lit lights on the stage were illuminating all the figures that were on there and though the elegant chandelier wasn't the same chandelier that once hung, it still held a slight remembrance of what it had looked like before. Firmin smiled from ear to ear and told André, "See, André, there was no need to be worried. We are not at all going to be ruined because of this!"

André, though smiled, narrowed his eyes at his colleague, "You were the one that had said that, Monsieur Firmin." However, they both knew that André kept that thought in mind longer than Firmin, since he was the one of the two that actually worried more often. But those worries temporary slipped off of his mind, hearing the scene that they entered in on.

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She had never been on stage singing before she had become Prima Donna. She would always watch when her father had taken her to various operas when she was younger and would sing behind closed doors, but never before did she dream that she would be on stage. Yes, Theresa had that horrible luck of being a beginner, but wanting to follow her late mother's footsteps she thought that she would try for her. And... she ended up becoming a lead soprano. Theresa felt someone smiling down at her and could tell that it was her father or her mother, giving the gift of music to her from above.

Though, she was happy to be on stage, she didn't dare show her true emotions. It was a trick her mother had taught to her, think of something that had to do with your character, or relate to your character and _then_ you sing. It worked most of the time, some characters were so uneasy to relate to that it didn't and she just sang it through her own perspective of how the character would be like. Lady Macbeth was the prime example. She had no idea how to act selfish and manipulative, but when she looked over the words, she found it enjoying to play.

The messenger left the stage, leaving Theresa there with a frown as she stared down his exit. Maybe it was the character, the dark and evilness showed in her voice and as the music started, she was enjoying Lady Macbeth more and more.

"_When Duncan comes through that door, I'll make sure that his final breath will happen tonight._

_Under my battlements, the raven himself will soon be hoarse from_

_Croaking his hour of death..."_

She paused like the music had and she took several steps back, gaining a dark look on her face as she looked up at the ceiling that looked like a sky with many glimmering lights. She imagined that the sky was dark and foggy, not at all blue and she imagined the glimmering lights as hellish lightning. The dancers came up onto the stage and crowded around her as she waited for her cue to start before the the violins would start once again. Monsieur Reyer raised his small baton and Theresa caught it at the corner of her eye.

"_Those Hellish Spirits that tend to mortal thoughts."_

She paused dramatically when their violins continued with a very slow, dark sound.

"_Unsex me here! And fill me from the crown to the toe, top-full of direst cruelty._

_Make my blood thick and stop the access and passage to remorse."_

Theresa sent a glare to the dancers that were silhouetting around her in their blackish costumes, doing twirls around her and kicks with their exaggerated hand gestures. Theresa walked away from them elegantly, breathing in all that she could for the support that she would need for the next verses. She figured Lady Macbeth would scorn those dancers to show off her cruelty, wouldn't she? Theresa concentrated on the ceiling again and imagined the dark fog swirl with the lightening. She closed her eyes as if she was basking in it and put a hand onto her breasts.

"_Come to my woman's breasts and take my milk for gall!_

_You murdering ministers, wherever you are in sightless substances,"_

Her voice actually grew softer as she opened her eyes, the music intensified, growing louder with the added basses and cellos, the horns even triumphed.

"_You wait on nature's mischief!_

_Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell!_

_That my keen knife,"_

She made a motioning of her hand to her neck, pretending to slice it as she looked at the empty seats in the audience. She resisted imagining that there were plenty of faces seated there and looking up at her in awe. Her voice grew louder and she soared to a range that she barely had even hit before.

"_See not the wound it makes,_

_Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark!"_

She made sure to hold that note as long as she could, extending her hand out in front of her like there was something there that she could grab. The music stopped drastically as her note echoed through the empty theatre. A grin made it onto her face that signalled either mischief or evil. When she was about to sing the last two words of the song, she found a flash of white from a box. It almost seem like a mask, a pearl white mask. But when she looked over there, there was no mask at all that was looking at her from... Box 5, maybe? She still didn't get used to this new home and maybe she would take a tour of it by herself to see what it held inside.

She didn't have time to think though, she proceeded with her grin though it did fall once she had a distraction near. The violins soothed slowly, they sounded as one, being so quiet now. She breathed in and her volume was now almost an awe-stroked whisper. It was hard, but she pictured herself in rubies and gold like she was to be an actual Queen.

"_To cry,"_

She let that note hang while the music stopped. Then without warning and shocking others that had not seen this scene yet, the music and the chorus girls sang out with Theresa's voice somehow towering over them, her voice with a hint of gentle nature, but evil nature mixed along with it.

"_'Hold!'"_

When the music dropped to a low continuous tone and Theresa stood there for a moment, as Henri was about to make his entrance. Then they all heard claps coming from behind them, forcing their rehearsal to halt. Theresa's grin dropped along with her face expression, turning it into its usual warmth and sweet nature. "Brava! Brava!" She smiled and turned on her heel to see her managers there with grins on their faces, showing their glossy teeth. They looked like they were standing there for a while. She hoped that she didn't seem too insane, she knew how into a character she would get, it happened in Italy plenty of times when her mother would give her arias to practice. Sometimes, her mother would say, that she would become a totally different person.

Monsieur Reyer groaned, why must his rehearsals cannot go on without a single interruption? Why? His eyes were rolling to the top of his head as he lightly tapped his baton to stop the murmuring of his orchestra. Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin quickly walked over to their discovery with their arms wide open. The two were on either of her side. "Stupendous," mused Firmin, "I can already tell that this night will be a hit!"

Theresa was overwhelmed by that compliment from her manager and nodded her thanks. She stated with her thick accent that didn't show any trace before, "Thank you, such a compliment like that is good to hear."

"But of course," André started looking over to the maestro. She was fresh blood after all and he could tell, though this was not his strong point in business, that she needed a bit of tweaking here and there. He stated to him, "there could always be room to improve, we want you to be absolutely perfect for the coming opera, mademoiselle!" He looked to her, grinning still.

"And that is why I rehearse!" Monsieur Reyer told him with his tone annoyed by the interruption. The two looked over at him while Theresa looked around to find the mask that she missed before. Not really paying much mind to the three talking. She saw a shadow up on the rafters and she narrowed her eyes curiously at it, though it disappeared quickly. Monsieur Reyer's voice came to split her hearing as he asked the mangers that still had their arms wrapped around her shoulder. "Please, do tell, the reasoning for interrupting _my_ rehearsal. Can't it wait until after the scene is done?"

Monsieur Firmin shook his head no as he stepped away from Theresa. Monsieur André stayed put where he was next to her and Firmin clapped for attention to be brought to him. He assured to Reyer before he would say anything else, "Not to worry, Monsieur Reyer, all will be quick." The dancers and chorus gathered around and when Monsieur André noticed their leading male on the sidelines also, he gestured over to him to go onto the other side next to him. Henri D'Aubigne gladly obliged and he quickly jogged over.

Theresa looked over at him curiously, they rehearsed together, but never really talked. She talked to the women while he talked with the men. He was rather handsome, with his brown hair that was curly, so curly that it stayed atop on his head. His eyes were alluring also and he was clean-shaven, there was not a speck of hair even growing upon his chin. When he looked back at her with a smirk, she looked down immediately feeling her cheeks shed a light pink from embarrassment. What was he going to think now? She was just caught staring at him! Theresa could've thanked the Lord or Monsieur Firmin from taking her thoughts away from embarrassment.

"Welcome all to the reopening of the _Opera Populaire_," claps sounded around and every performer shared the same smile, "and for those who are coming back to join us, thank you. It is a honour for both your managers that you would still perform here," his eyes furrowed on several select people, people like Madame Giry and her daughter, Meg Giry. He continued, "and for our _new_ performers," his eyes furrowed to the two people that were standing on either side of André. "Monsieur André and I are looking forward to a bright, new season!"

More claps sounded throughout the theatre when that was said and even Monsieur Reyer who was upset by the interruption of his rehearsal clapped at the sound of that. André added after, "And for those who didn't know already, the prime additions to the cast, Monsieur Henri D'Aubigne and Signora Theresa Baccelli are to be welcomed warmly into our family." Theresa heard claps around her again and she looked down feeling her cheeks grow hot yet again. God, why was she blushing so much? She never used to blush. André pat the pair's backs and said to them, "Go on now, don't be shy, take your bows, both of you."

He stepped backward and Henri and Theresa looked at each other before turning on their heels in unison and facing their _family_. They gripped hands and Theresa grabbed a part of her dress to curtsy and bow her head at them.

When they released hands, they heard Reyer call to the managers in exasperation, "Now are we done here? I have to finish rehearsing, monsieurs."

Firmin held up a finger and assured him, "Not yet, just one more thing." The attention was back on him and Theresa was beginning to worry if she would have to leave soon. Her fitting for her costume with the seamstress was coming soon and she didn't want to leave the rehearsal, though there were plenty of them left. All were so important! She looked over at him though and she heard him say, "Now, as we all know, tomorrow night there will be a ball to celebrate our reopening. We're hoping that it would be splendid and a bright way to start fresh!"

André continued after him brightly, "So we all hope that you will all look your best to show that we are back to entertain!"

Ball? The ball was already coming? She knew that it was going to be soon, but this soon? She looked to Henri and muttered to him, "The ball is tomorrow night, they say?"

Henri looked over at her, almost shocked that the beautiful woman said more than two words to him. Lately the two only had exchanged a hello and goodbye. He grinned at her and told her with slight mockery, "Already forgetting important dates, my lady? Oh, what are we going to do with you?"

Theresa felt her eyes narrow at him and looked forward with a slight amused smirk. Firmin added on, taking his place next to his colleague, "And we will like to inform you all, that our patron will be honoured tomorrow night. He couldn't make it today, unfortunately, but his appearance is due tomorrow. Who knows? He might even seem familiar to some of you." Curious glances were exchanged along with silent murmurs from those who were trying to understand what he would mean. Before anything else was mentioned, the two looked at each other to be sure that all was mentioned to them.

André nodded and he said to everyone, "Now, we will leave you all to be with Monsieur Reyer to continue your rehearsal. Sorry for the interruption."

As they began to leave the stage, the liveliness returned into excited chatter of the coming ball. Theresa's shoulders slumped as she continued to look around the theatre curiously. She must've saw something that was part of her imagination before, but why would she imagine that? It was absurd. The baton was being tapped against the stand to get the attention and Madame Giry ushered the dancers to the side to where they were still warming up and stretching for when they would have their chance to go on stage.

Theresa didn't pay mind to it all, seeing something flutter in the air, falling from the rafters above.

Theresa narrowed her eyes at it curiously and though her name was being called, she walked over to it. Henri called to her, "Theresa," she bent down and touched the parchment with the black bordering the envelope. Theresa held it in her hand and turned it to see a red skull sealed on the opening.

"Theresa," he called her again and lightly touched her shoulder. He leaned over her slightly to see what she was looking at so intently and not only did Theresa feel his eyes on her, she felt others looking at her.

She stood up slowly, opening it with her finger and pulling out the piece of parchment. Madame Giry finally decided to look behind her shoulder to see the faint image of Theresa reading it. Her eyes soon widened, maybe she did feel what she felt before. Theresa read it silently to herself and neither a look of horror nor astonishment showed on her face. She looked around and before Madame Giry could snatch the letter out of her hands, Theresa stated, "Excuse me, Monsieur Reyer, Madame..." she moved away slowly from Henri and nodded, "Henri, I have to see Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin, right away."

And before anyone could question her, she quickly picked up her dress and walked in a fast pace to see to it that she would see them _promptly_. What she read, was actually supposed to be for her to read and she needed answers.

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_**Well, I'm not going to bore you with another large note that I started with the beginning haha. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and let me know in a review what you think! Criticism is the only payment us poor writer's have to go by :)**_

_**Oh, and if any of you want to, I do have a Facebook to like for sneak peeks to stories and status on those stories. The link is right on my profile. I think I made it "Like me on Facebook." So if you want to go right ahead.**_


	2. A Bothersome Charm

_**Hello! Thank you to everyone for the feedback. It means a lot to see some of you from the original story and to see some new people. I was supposed to update this tomorrow, but I don't think that I really can do it tomorrow. So I'll do it now. I hope you enjoy chapter two! **  
_

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_Chapter II: A Bothersome Charm_

_Dear Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin,_

_Let me at first welcome you back to the Opera Populaire. I am hoping for a good season to follow after the fatal disaster our good Opera House has experienced six years ago, and though we are not going to have Ms. Christine Daae charming the audience with her voice, we do not have La Carlotta's voice splitting the ears of many people and breaking wine glasses in the theatre. Now, my orders are to be obeyed! My salary is past due six years and I would like Box 5 **empty** for my personal use this time. Your new soprano, Ms. Theresa Baccelli, is not up to par to our most recent soprano. For your production of Macbeth, I suggest having her either replaced with someone who can handle her part or do a lot of work on her before the coming performance in a couple of weeks. We do not want your comeback from nothing to be a disaster already. Maybe if she wasn't in the dark of this House's history, she would oblige with improving on her vocals. You haven't still obeyed any of my previous orders, so be warned, your chance is the last of three to make it all right._

_I will remain here as your obedient servant still,_

_O.G._

"What history am I in the dark about?" She asked as André and Firmin took in the note, unsure of _how_ to really take the note handed to them. Theresa didn't know who this _O.G._ was nor did she care. His opinion of her was not something that she let her mind dwell on normally, but who was he to say that about her? Where was this man, if he even was a man, to say it directly to her? She wouldn't be rude about it, she would take it gladly. He worked for the _Opera Populaire, _too, obviously since he had a salary, a box, and he called himself their... their... servant! Who did he think he was and why did he sign himself as O.G.?

He probably did have a name like any other person did in this world!

André noticeably gulped and Theresa pursed her lips, waiting for her answer. What exactly did she sign on when she had wanted to sing here? They actually looked genuinely frightened to her and though she might have only met them once or twice before, she had never pictured that frightened look on their faces. It was almost as if a sword's blade was shining toward them... ready to strike. Question after question roamed through her mind as each second passed between them in their office. Each question growing more and more in panic as well.

Firmin cleared his throat awkwardly and loosened the collar of his neck tie to answer her. He lied however, "There is a rumour that has been going on for a couple of years now of how our theatre was burnt down."

André looked at Firmin unsure if they should actually _lie_ to their new Prima Donna. For one they really didn't know her to do so, and two Theresa seemed to have a lot more smarts to her than she let on. Something he noticed when he met her at first. But he didn't dare hide his uncertainty, knowing that this would turn the wrong way for them if he had. He added onto where his colleague was going anyway, "Many think that there is a ghost, an apparition, that roams through here." Theresa raised her eyebrow, an apparition? "Only a rumour though."

"A rumour?" She repeated in disbelief, why would someone send a note under a rumour? Did they really think they could pull this over her?

"Yes, a rumour!" Firmin confirmed, "He is even said to be the blame for the fire, many a people thought they saw him actually _in_ the show with Christine Daae, but no, he was only a hallucination to those there." Theresa's expression remained unchanging and hard as a stone. She had barely even heard of what happened to cause the _Opera Populaire_ to close. She knew there was a fire, but she didn't really know how it happened.

When Theresa didn't respond to him, Firmin added to her, "It was all an... an... accident, mademoiselle! An accident, this Phantom is not at all real, just a bedtime story to tell the workers here to make them focus, that's all." She eyed them carefully, not thinking that they were right for a minute. It didn't at all pass through her head that they were telling the truth.

The stammering of Monsieur Firmin didn't help that fact of the matter as well. She inquired sceptically to them both, "And why exactly would someone send a letter under O.G.? Which I assume stands for... Opera Ghost?"

André answered this quicker than one should be when replying, "A joke, mademoiselle. There are no such things as ghosts and phantoms." Theresa narrowed her eyes at her and knew that they weren't going to break down and tell her the truth of who this... _ghost_ may be. She sighed deeply and looked around the office to see that it was almost night. She wanted to give them the note the moment she had abruptly left rehearsal to see them, but the seamstress, Harriet, caught her right outside the theatre to get to her fitting. It took longer than expected and how tight the dress was on her was proven with the marks from the corset on her back. The costume was actually to be done tomorrow and she had to go to pose for a poster in the morning.

She didn't think that there was going to be the baggage of jokes and a dark history involved with this at all when she said she would do it. Theresa shook her head, feeling her chest tighten, nor did she think that she was already going to be lied to to stay _in_ the _Opera Populaire_. "I do not know now if this is the right place for me, monsieur," She started to them in almost a mumble. Their faces dropped, what was that supposed to mean? Theresa took a step back from their desk and told them both, "I doubt someone would joke about that, so if you excuse me, I'll be leaving now." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.

Firmin thought very quickly, "Wait, Signora!"

Theresa stopped as the two men stepped on either side of her immediately, she looked over at Firmin who actually turned her around to look at the mirror in front of them. "Look there," he said to her. André moved her chin up to make her get a better look at herself. She took in a breath through her nose. "What do you see there, signora?"

Theresa had no idea what they were doing with her, but she replied shortly, "Me."

André nodded, but he pointed to her hazel eyes with a slight admiration of them, "And you know what we see?" Theresa shook her head no slowly, she didn't even think that she actually wanted to know at all. "In those eyes we see a determination that only the greats would have on rare occasion." She furrowed them down onto the ground and tried not to flush at that, she was told that before, believe it or not. Her mother had told her that before she actually died. In fact, Theresa remembered it clearly, _"__La determinazione nei tuoi occhi si vergogna a mettere gli altri in fretta.__" _

"Those eyes could definitely be ones that could scorn those that are doubtful of them, I trust," Firman stated confidently, grinning at Theresa confidently as well. He could see the gears working in her head at the moment. He added to her, "Even if the Opera Ghost was real and he had actually said those words about you in his letter then don't you think that you must prove him wrong? To show him that you truly are the daughter of the late and great Amelia Baccelli of Venice, who actually taught you all that you know?"

She corrected her mother's name with a small chuckle, "Her name was actually Angelina."

André glared over at Firmin for getting her mother's name wrong, though they had to agree that they really never heard of her mother, being from France and not Italy. Theresa looked back in the mirror with a small smile on her face. He added, "Your mother is probably smiling from above at you for following her grandest footsteps. Shouldn't that be incentive enough to...?"

"To prove this ghost—if he's real of course—wrong?" Firmin finished, finally recovering from that brief moment before. "We saw great potential from you the day you have came to us and we are going to continue with seeing your potential to be great from you in the coming seasons," Theresa tried so hard to see that, but she highly doubted it. "I think that, you can prove him wrong so easily if you keep that determined look in your eye that Monsieur André and I see right now through this mirror."

She asked them in disbelief still, but she was still smiling, "Really?"

André answered with a nod, "Oui, but the only obstacle that lies between you and that, is yourself." Her smile fell into a fine line as he added to her, "We think that the public will love you, with the emotions you sing with, your beauty! But how will the public love you if we don't even introduce them to you?" That was a good point. Theresa sighed, giving in a little bit, but not letting them see the truth in her eyes that she would be watching for this so-called 'ghost' to appear. She actually might ask a couple of people about the Phantom of the Opera that have worked here before.

Firmin held out his hand to her for her to grab and shake as a way of accepting this. Theresa stared down at it pointedly as he told her, "The only thing that we need to ask is, will you stay and sing for us?" She bit her bottom lip and held up her hand to take it reluctantly and slowly, hoping that something could assuage her, but nothing came and she shook it ready and determined for anything. Firmin led her away from the mirror to the door. "Now, you should go to your room and get some rest, we have a big day tomorrow, mademoiselle."

"And we want you to look your best, Theresa," André told her from behind as Firmin opened the door for to go through.

Theresa nodded and looked behind her shoulder, stating, "Thank you for clearing that up for me." The two mangers smiled nervously and watched Theresa go away from them and to her room. Their smiles soon fell though when she was out of their sights. The Phantom was back to play, but hopefully he wouldn't be as long as the two managers kept everything all well.

They looked at each other, highly doubting that, since from their experience they knew something, and at least something, would happen that would make the well balance shift only a little. The two closed themselves in their office, to get their stuff together to leave there and go home for the day.

* * *

Theresa walked down the grand staircase, which was still well-lit with candles. She didn't find herself fairly tired, in fact it was only the beginning of night, she found herself fairly hungry though. She sighed, though hungry she really didn't feel like eating. Theresa looked around as she made her way to her room and flashed a small smile smelling the roses and other flowers around the lobby. She stopped at the bottom of the staircase, feeling someone behind her. She glanced behind her shoulder for a moment, only to see that no one was there and then she shrugged it off as her imagination. _You're just being paranoid, Theresa,_ she told herself, and then she continued to go to her room.

In her head, she was going over lyrics to the songs of Macbeth, remembering how Monsieur Reyer would actually conduct it to the orchestra precisely. She was going to show this _phantom_, whether if he was real or not, that she was here to stay and be loved by the public, just like her mother imagined and trained her to be. She would make it her life mission to... to try and make her happy. Who was she kidding? Her mother probably agreed with this so-called 'phantom' and was probably scowling at her because of his criticism.

The way to her room wasn't far, she stopped at the door and heard the footsteps sounding around her. Still, Theresa thought that those were also a part of her imagination. She ignored them, turning the knob slowly to open her door.

Theresa stopped herself when she felt a tap on her shoulder, jumping with a small gasp escaping her throat. Before turning around she heard several laughs behind her and she inhaled slowly and tremblingly as she turned on her heel to see who frightened her. "Someone's jumpy today."

She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled at him despite of it. Theresa countered to Henri, "And so would anyone else when someone would creep up behind them. It's actually a normal reaction that a person would have after." She turned away from him and to her door to open it again, but he leaned onto the frame with his arms folded in front of his chest. The grin on his face was crooked and his eyes held a bit of mirth as they locked with hers.

"Really?" He questioned her curiously, "I thought that you are a far from normal type of person."

Theresa chuckled lightly and opened her door to finally go into her room to settle in. She stated to him sarcastically, "What a compliment." Theresa walked into her room and found it to start getting dark. She sighed walking over to a candle and lighting a match to light at least maybe one. How little did she know that Henri would actually follow her in. Paying no mind to him, she lit the few candles on her vanity.

His voice came again, making her jump, "I did mean that as a compliment though." He smiled seeing her shoulders once again go up and down in a flash, she really was a jumpy woman, wasn't she? Theresa looked into the mirror to see him standing there with his bluish-grey eyes dazzling with a certain charm. The way he was looking at her almost made her flush again for maybe the fifth time that day, but Theresa gotten a hold of herself before she could.

"You did?" He nodded at the mirror, making Theresa turn around to face him. "I do not think that we know each other that well enough to even _give_ such compliments like that, Monsieur D'Aubigne."

He took a confident step forward, his smile growing hearing that. "Then I suggest that now is the chance to get to know each other well enough." She hummed faking her consideration, she wanted to stay in here, maybe read a book and practice. "Dinner, you and me, now. What do you say?"

"A bit forward you are, don't you think?" She inquired to him laughing.

"Only if you want me to be." He retorted to her. Theresa glanced at him behind her shoulder as she walked over to her closet, taking her nightgown out for her to wear when he would _leave_. Henri eyed her carefully, "I think it is important to know my co-star very well before our performance. I do not want you to be thought up as by me as the woman who could be beautiful while singing like she is the Devil's child on stage." She glared at him while walking away to flatten her gown onto her bed. He continued to her in a flirty tone, "I saw evil in your eyes today and I have to say when my character is supposed to be a little frightened by you... I'm actually intrigued by you, mademoiselle."

Theresa's attempted restraint _on_ blushing actually became harder and a deep pink settled on her high cheekbones. She quickly tried to hide it by busying herself with, well... something. She only stalked off to her bookcase that she only just unpacked to pretend to be picking a book. She gulped nervously, but snickered to him, "That is a problem, monsieur," Henri raised his eyebrow as she continued, "that isn't the normal way someone, even not acting, should feel after seeing that."

He closed the open door. "Call me Henri for now on, signora." He insisted, taking several steps forward before sitting nonchalantly on her bed like he was supposed to be there. Theresa looked up from her books and soon nodded shortly to him with a small smile, then she went back to her books, to pretend again like she was going to choose one. She even picked several up to check them to see if they were interesting. He questioned her, "And don't you think that it's funny that you say 'monsieur' and 'madame' and maybe a 'oui' here and there, when you're Italian and not French at all?"

She sighed, replying to him, "You know what we say, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.'"

"Ah, very true." Henri moved away from the door and stood close to her. His eyes narrowing slightly to see all the books that she had gathered there. He chuckled lightly and shook his head before questioning to her jokingly, "I see, you'd rather stay here and read instead of being with me?" _Does he ever stop talking?_ Theresa asked herself.

Theresa smirked up at him and took the topmost book without even realizing what it was when she picked up. "How did you even guess, monsieur?"

"A lucky guess and once again, my name's Henri. And I would like you to call me by it," Henri corrected her. Theresa eyed him carefully before she nodded to him slowly. She took her book under her arm and was almost expecting him to leave. But he lingered over her bed as she crossed to sit in the red velvet covered chair that was close to her vanity. It provided just enough light to start her reading for the night. "So, _Theresa_, what has brought you to the lovely city of Paris?" Theresa briefly looked up before opening the book in her hand.

She asked him instead of answering his question, "You are still here? Do you not have anything better to do than bother me?"

Henri laughed lightly at her question and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against her bed post. He shrugged his shoulders at that, "I think this is important to do, my lady. If you are being bothered by me though, then I will leave. But just because a lady like yourself is in distress because of my presence is hardly what I would want."

"You never stop talking, do you?" Theresa asked him amused, putting aside her book. She chuckled softly once she noticed Henri shake his head no. She thought as much. Having a feeling in the pit of her stomach that what he said was partly not true, she knew that he would never be out of her room unless she did talk with him. She took a deep sigh before she answered his question, "I've heard of Paris a lot from the many locals in Italy and I wanted to see it for myself. So I gathered up my money and my things and then took the train to here."

The corner of Henri's lip twitched up and he pulled a chair from the table in the corner. He sat down on top of it, crossing his legs. "And how are you liking it so far? Personally, I think the standards in Italy are far better than the ones set forth here."

"Italy has its perks, but I feel it is definitely better," Theresa answered him, a smile forming on her face as she folded her hands on her lap. She admitted to him, "The memories in Italy aren't here..." Her eyes lowered to her folded hands on her lap, a frown was starting to make its way onto her face. It was true that a lot of memories plagued her as she walked the last year in Italy. She felt very empty since her mother had passed in her sleep. Her father died at a young age of hers as well and the two were even closer than most would expect.

Henri raised his eyebrow at that, evidently showing that he was confused by that comment. He asked her, "Memories... and what sort of memories are those?" Theresa slowly raised her eyes to his and she realized what she had just said. She didn't even realize what she had mentioned to him once she did. Henri dropped his smirk and stated to her, "You don't have to tell me. I don't want to pry when I'm only a mere stranger to you."

"No... no it is okay," she said to him softly. "You're going to find out anyway soon enough, so why not tell you now?" Theresa grinned at him and Henri exchanged one back with her. He had to admit, he was really starting to like her and he only just met this woman. Something about her... he couldn't pinpoint what it really was, but he felt comfortable around her. Theresa was a beautiful woman as well, and usually he had no problem into talking to beautiful women like she. But she wasn't difficult (well, to what his definition of difficult really was anyway) like many others. "Plus we really shouldn't be all that much of strangers, should we? We have been performing next to each other for several weeks."

Henri tilted his head up at her curiously. He didn't even think of that. The grin on his face grew and he nodded to her approvingly, "Touché."

"But," Theresa started to him, holding her finger up. Henri's grin almost faltered once he heard the 'but.' That was usually never a good thing in his book. She continued, "It is only fair that you share something personal with me in exchange."

For some reason, her request was not as bad as Henri thought it would be. He gawked at her for a moment, but then he realized that the request was a bit difficult for him. So maybe it was as bad as it seemed since he wasn't really an open person like she seemed to be. In fact, Henri had never really been asked in his life about something personal. So it was definitely something new for him. But... he considered it and soon he noticed Theresa extend her hand out to him to actually shake on it. Henri pressed his lips together and then shook her hand with his. "I believe we have a deal, Theresa."

Theresa took note of the way his hand felt on hers. They were smooth and the grip that he had on hers was firm and tight. For some reason, it gave her chills. Why? She had no idea. Theresa smiled softly at him once she took her hand back. But she had no idea how to start the bad memories that were even in Italy. The memories that she really wanted to get away from. She took a deep sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. She thought it was a good idea to start with her father in Venice and then go on from there. "Well... my family and I used to live in Venice when my father was alive. I was very close to him and he died when I was around twelve. He taught me how to play piano and... he used to take me to all of my mother's performances whenever she did one.

"When he died, I was with my mother and things were changing too fast for me and she moved me to Naples where she was originally from... away from there. And she retired from her own opera career to actually train me." For a moment, Theresa moved her eyes away from Henri's as she felt a small frown develop.

Henri's face softened a bit, almost seeing that sadness in her eyes then. Even the small frown beginning to show on her face actually threw him off a little. He asked her, although he was actually a bit reluctant with it, "And what of your mother?"

Theresa looked up at him. Her mother she never really talked about with other people, usually. For some reason, not many people asked her about her mother. "Died a year ago... in her sleep. She was sick for a year, though. All she did was lay in bed miserably, wouldn't get up at all. So I had to take care of her until then. I think it was something with my father though that she didn't want to get up..." the last sentence nothing but a mumble really to herself. She always wondered that that year when she died. If she had grown tired of spending her days with Theresa. Theresa and her mother were never really that close like her and her father were. So... Theresa somewhat always thought that loneliness could have been the cause of death as well.

Henri sighed and nodded understandingly. Henri had a feeling that it was now _his _turn. So he confided in her, taking a breath before doing so. "My mother hadn't died, she's still alive, actually. My father had died six years ago," he looked around Theresa's room, noticing that her room was painted a pale yellow instead of the usual dark colour that he would see in other rooms. It was brighter than most and it was refreshing to see a place in France without any dark colours splashing against each other. He looked back at her, "In fact, he died two weeks... after I had actually met him. He worked here... in the _Opera Populaire_." Her eyes widened when she heard that he had worked _here_.

She settled down a bit and she asked him, "You only met him two weeks before?"

He nodded, "Yes, my father left my mother and I flat with little to no money," a sneer came from him as he looked over to the side. His smile being wiped off. Theresa took his hand within hers, actually a little worried hearing that angry tone, she felt a bit compassionate for him. Henri continued, looking back at her, "I hated him since the day I was born, and I told my mother that when I would find him I would kill him for what he had done to us. The bastard almost sent us into poverty if my mother hadn't married someone that would actually happen to have a couple of a lot of francs on him, I don't think we would have survived." He gave a small nod to the side like something was implied that Theresa didn't seem to catch right away.

"How did he die?" She asked curiously, receiving a look from Henri that made her seem that he didn't want to tell her. That was going over the borderline for him now. Even the facts about his real father was about to cross the borderline for him. She shook her head, and waved her other hand, "You don't have to tell me, I'm just curious. That's all."

He sighed and answered, "It's okay, mademoiselle. It's just the fact is, is that... I don't really know."

"Theresa," she corrected with a sly smile, "I'm not going to call you Henri if you're not going to call me Theresa."

Henri chuckled sadly and nodded, "Yes, Theresa, funny, I call you by your name every other time but this one, my apologies."

"No need to apologize," she told him, she had forgotten about her problems once she had heard his, "but I rather think that more funny rather than me speaking French even though I'm hardly French."

His smirk came again after he had frowned for what seemed to Theresa to be forever. He shook his head no, "My lady, with your accent and the French tongue coming out of your mouth, I'm afraid to say that nothing could be more funny than that. Sorry to inform the truth to you, but the truth is viciously true."

Theresa laughed, putting a fallen hair behind her ear. After that, they just sat there in a comfortable silence, only looking at each other up and down. Henri's eyes roamed her body to find that she was actually thin, there were a few curves here and there, but she was definitely thin. Or it might have been the corset that she was wearing under dress that was making her look thin... He couldn't decide. He also noticed that she wasn't pale like most women in France were, she had an olive tone to show that she was Mediterranean. Henri thought that it made her seem more alive and vibrant.

Her voice distracted him away from her and he found himself looking deeply, but innocently into her hazel eyes like he wasn't looking at her like he was before. She told him, "I would think that you would've left already, Henri."

His smirk only grew and he leaned to her, stating, "I would've, but I am still waiting on my answer to my offer before, Theresa. You're not getting rid of me if I don't have one, I'm afraid." Oh, she almost forgotten about the offer of dinner before. He felt someone holding his hand still and his eyes looked down to see that it was her. His smirk could've fell into a smile, but she soon let go of him and tapped him on the shoulder to get up as she did. He knitted his eyebrows confused on why, but a thought ran through his head that she was actually accepting it. He smiled broadly and inquired getting up, "Ay?"

She shook her head and led him to the door, "Nay."

His face fell as he let himself be led to her door by her. He stopped abruptly and turned to her puzzled by her answer. It was surely something that he wasn't at all expecting. "Nay?"

Theresa nodded and reached around him to open the door. She asked him, "Would you like me to say no to be even more clearer?"

"But I thought I was getting somewhere with you," he insisted even more forwardly than before. Theresa could've sworn that he was actually pouting as he turned to her. "It's not like we're going _out_ to eat, if you don't want to of course, but we could just eat the dinner they make here. I am sure that you hadn't eaten yet, Theresa. That's not healthy, supper should be in your stomach before you turn in for the night, which is probably what you are going to do anyway... after you've read your _boring_ book, of course." He gestured toward the nightgown on her bed that she had taken out before.

Theresa chuckled and told him, "Pouting is not a good look on you."

He retorted quickly with his hand on the door, "I've been told it is." The man was clever and witty to the point of him actually being charming toward her. Theresa could admit that if she didn't have the intention of practising, reading, and soon going to the chapelle like she would do every night, late at night, she would have given into him. The amusement showed on her face when she smiled at him sweetly.

"Well, you've been told wrong," she told him, trying to open the door further and push him out, but his hand and him were heavily in the way. She narrowed her eyes at him.

He stated to her, "I really thought that we made a connection tonight for our first real conversation."

Theresa chuckled, "Well, we have plenty of time for real conversation and tonight wouldn't be our last, not to worry. But no dinner right now, I'm tired."

"Though, it should be my duty to not let you go to bed with an empty stomach, shouldn't it?" He asked to her. Theresa sighed, he really wasn't going to back down, was he?

She shook her head, "Another time, Henri. I promise that I'll go to supper with you another time, not tonight, just another time. And..." she trailed off thinking of something that would make him be on the same page as her. Theresa thought of it and continued, "you can even surprise me with the day, no matter what time it is. How's that?"

Henri narrowed his eyes at her but his smile made his way back, sending Theresa's heart to actually flutter. He extended his hand to her for her to take. She looked down at it pointedly, "Let's shake on that then. To make it official, I mean." Theresa sighed, looking up into his eyes uncertain if she should actually shake it. Even though it was _her_ idea, she hoped that he would at least forget about it the next day. "Shake it," he insisted, "I don't bite, my lady."

She closed her eyes and shook his hand, before she actually felt him lifting up his hand with hers in it still and then laying a gentle kiss on the top of her knuckles. Theresa was actually shocked that he even did this and she felt the tingle from his lips on her hand even when he moved it back. He kept a good hold on her which she hardly even noticed and was soon standing in the doorway, looking at her shocked expression with amusement. "You owe me several dances tomorrow, I feel." He stated. Theresa was so baffled and speechless that she didn't know anything to do other than nod to him. "Many, actually." Henri didn't realize that they were still holding hands as well and she was standing there dazed in disbelief.

He leaned in again and asked, "You want to know a secret?"

Theresa gulped and shook herself mentally to get a grip of herself. _Why am I acting like this? _She thought to herself. Theresa soon nodded to him again, but then quickly stated, "It depends on the secret..."

His smirk grew, "I find it strange that it was very easy to tell you what I just told you in there."

She smiled at him with her hazel eyes smiling as well. She told him without any thought at all, "That is indeed strange, but you know what is stranger? I think I find it strange that it was easy to talk to you, too."

He chuckled, still holding onto her hand. "I'll see you around."

Theresa nodded quickly, "Of course." They stood there, looking into each others eyes, with their hands being held still. Theresa hadn't at all realized it, searching the swirls of grey and blue that churned in them.

Henri told her after a long moment, "If you do not want dinner now, I suggest that you let go of my hand before I just drag you out of your room myself."

Theresa knitted her eyebrows at him confused and looked down at their hands that were still holding onto each other, not really wanting to let go either. She stopped her eyes going wide, but she took her hand away from him immediately and backed up into her room, with the door knob in her hand. An exceeding look of triumph and cockiness stroked Henri's eyes as he saw the look on her face. She breathed in and nodded her head, "I can't let that happen, now can I?"

He shook his head, "No you cannot, there wouldn't be any element of surprise there if you do, which is less fun for me. I hate to admit."

"And... I would hate to spoil that fun for you."

Henri pursed his lips and bowed his head with a wink of his eye. He told her, "I never said the fun would be spoiled. I will see you tomorrow, my lady."

"That you will," she told him. Theresa closed the door when Henri walked away from her and she stood there... staring at the wood of the door. It took her a moment before she had turned on her heel to take her nightgown off the bed and go behind her screen to change. She went behind the screen to get changed and slipped out of her dress and untied her corset herself. His name lingered in her mind for a long moment and she smiled as if she was seeing his face once again in front of her.

He was handsome, she had to admit. A bit cocky, but sweet. He was a flirt, too, and he did charm her, she hated admitting that. Theresa was letting this go to her head, she knew what the other women had said about him, thinking the same as her. Including her friend, Meg, too. She thought she was different from them, though he did treat them all the same, but she was confident that she was different than them... She played with the cross around her neck while looking in front of her still charmed by him and when she was about to go to her bookcase, she looked up at the mirror at the end of the room.

Her smile fell as her eyes narrowed on something strange about it.

There was a strange black gap there that separated the gold embroidered frame and the reflection of her room. She looked around her curiously and took slow steps toward it like it was calling to her. Theresa's hands were folded in front of her as she picked up her white robe and wore it around her. Her and her reflection were now inches away and she looked through the black gap, looking into it only to see darkness there. It was almost like a sliding door. Her fingers curled on the edge of the mirror to move it shut, rather than open.

Although her mind was curious about it, she didn't want to dwell on it. Another day she would definitely have the courage to, but now she didn't. However, she did leave it open a crack, just enough for it to be reopened again.

* * *

_**I didn't change too much, but I did extend the part with Henri a little more and made it a little bit more natural than it was. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! By the way, this story would be updated every other Sunday usually. It's just easier for me since I am very busy and I will probably get more chapters done this way as well. I did make a little schedule for all of my stories and I that can be found on my profile. :)**_

_**Also, for sneak peeks to chapters and for the OC bios and statuses on not only this story, but other stories of mine, I have a Facebook page for. The link to it is on my profile if you are interested.**_

_**Well, anyway, thank you for reading and I will see you next time! :)**_

_**~Why Fireflies Flash**_


	3. Under Dark Shadows

_**Hello! Thank you for the positive feedback! It means a lot to see the same people from when this story was first posted come back to alert it and review it. That really is awesome to see. This chapter is basically like the old Chapter III, I really couldn't see it any other way. But **_**some**_** of the dialogue is changed. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

* * *

_Chapter III: Under Dark Shadows_

The party atmosphere was so hard to get used to. The managers showed her off to practically all the guests in the room and she was so unaccustomed to talking with them. Politics, what was so special about them? She didn't understand, some didn't even touch upon music. A lot asked her where she was from, she didn't mind that, but when she would mention Venice or Naples, she wouldn't be able to finish! She was cut off by the person talking with her and they would muse over the places. Theresa was starting to have enough of it, she looked around for someone in the Opera House to talk to. Why couldn't she find anyone to save her? Where was Meg? Henri? Emile? Or even the patron? Though, she wasn't sure about that, because he was part of the high society here and she had already forgotten his name, which would be embarrassing.

The Contes that she was talking to, Contes Danielle Bonde, continued to her with a genuine smile; she might've been the nicest and less snobbish of them all that she had talked to that night, "Now, my father had been to Venice on business with my mother, told me it was absolutely beautiful. Canals everywhere, gondolas transporting you in them, oh, and the buildings! He actually told me that he saw a woman by the name of Angelina Baccelli perform. Any relation to her?"

Theresa nodded, though it was the third time, maybe even the sixth time (she lost track since the first), that night her mother was used to identify her, at least. She replied, "She's actually my mother, madame."

"Your mother!" She mused, her smile growing with delight. Theresa only stood there not phased at all and kept a subtle smile on her face. Slowly, it was becoming more and more faker as she was shrouded in her mother's shadow once more. "You must have inherited her angelic voice. I remember when my father came back from Venice, all he could talk about was her! My mother had to pry him out of the topic because of her jealousy! All he talked about was her voice and looks, and her eyes!" _You should really stop talking,_ she thought to herself, feeling a terrible headache start to drum into her head from her high-pitched voice.

She could chat to a wall, and it was almost like she was, too. Theresa was looking away from her, putting her wine glass against her pink lips. Her steadily small sips of it actually did remind her of home when she would sneak a glass of wine there without her mother's knowledge at all. 'It isn't a _lady's_ drink,' her mother would scowl at her in their native tongue. She grew accustomed to drinking it when her mother was in bed, deathly ill. It was wrong for her to do that, she would admit, but Theresa really couldn't help but disobey her mother many times. She felt like it was the foundation of their relationship.

When Theresa looked back at the Contes, she regretted it. Her mind scowled, _Does this woman have anything better to talk about?_ "I think the gala is going to go splendidly!" _Oh, is that supposed to be something different?_ Her spiteful thoughts were going to wash off of her, until, "You being her daughter would make for a quality show, I believe!"

"Let's hope," she muttered to her, but mainly to herself, taking yet another sip of her wine, while looking around... for someone... anyone. Theresa found herself getting quite desperate. Theresa tried not to make her cruelty known when she looked back at the Contes, the angst from her mother being mentioned yet again drove into her veins _again,_ like it had plenty of times before. She stated with a silent sneer, "Don't want to be shaming the woman above that had taught me most of everything that I know, now, do I?"

The Contes chuckled lightly and shook her head slowly at Theresa. "She will be proud of you, mademoiselle, so very proud to see you on that stage. I doubt she will be shamed!"

Theresa mentally shook her head no, _If I don't do anything that she had taught me since my father's death, she will curse me to rot in Hell. The inner-most circle of Hell, actually. _Though her mind scowled at her, she plastered on her fake smile once more and nodded, repeating, "Let's hope."

Theresa swallowed what she could down her throat and it was really her entire wine, which was only a bit. She needed so much more. Theresa held up a hand to the Contes to excuse herself, "Very nice talking to you, madame, but I must go." She bowed her head apologetically and the Contes a little shocked that Theresa didn't want to talk anymore, nodded her goodbye.

She quickly walked away from the Contes, taking in the last drop of her wine before going to the bar and pouring herself another glass. She filled it almost too much and she had to take a quick sip out of it to make the wine go away from the brim. She needed to be alone for now... out of this sort of air for a bit. Theresa needed to get out before Henri would find her, to get out of the same conversations she would have with the upper class, she only needed to think in fresh air that didn't have this type of air at all.

She stood there in thought of where she could escape for maybe twenty minutes and the chapelle came to mind for a moment, but she scratched that thought out immediately. Theresa would find sometimes a couple in the corner close to the sacred place... groping each other. That made her sick for it was a place of worship.

Not only that, she went there that morning, early that morning to pray like she had done late the night before. It was becoming a habit now. No, there had to be somewhere else. Her room was too obvious if someone went looking for her. Theresa took another careful sip out of her wine while her eyes scanned for Henri, specifically, she didn't want him to find her either. The roof... It was far, too far, but it would subdue. Or she could go into the theatre... that wasn't that bad of an idea maybe...

You would have to know her well enough to find her there. The thought crossed her mind and she disregarded it, that was probably stained a bit by the air in the lobby. She sighed. The roof, she would have to go onto the roof. It was peaceful and quiet there anyway. She had never been up there either, but she did have a feeling that she knew the way very well. She took several sips of her wine before seeing a ballerina by the name of Paulette next to her smuggling bottles of wine and other bottles of alcohol with Franck, another dancer.

She eyed them suspiciously with smirk pulling onto her mouth amused. The first sign of amusement that entire night, thankfully. She inquired to them, "Where are you going with those?"

They froze, realizing that Theresa was standing inches away from them. Franck answered for them both, "No where, mademoiselle. Absolutely no where."

"We're just holding them," Paulette started, looking over at Franck for confirmation, "to keep the wine... warm!"

Franck made a face at her, thinking that excuse would not do at all. Theresa chuckled nodding, not believing a single word of that, "Take this wine away from me before I get drunk," she took another sip of it before she handed the wine to Paulette who was looking at her wide-eyed and unsure of what she would mean, "I'm not supposed to be drinking like I am now, so if you won't tell that I'm on maybe my fourth," _My fifth glass of wine, _she corrected herself, it was embarrassing that the amount she drank was almost a bottle, "glass of wine already then I won't tell stories of you smuggling bottles out of here."

"Oh, we swear we won't, Theresa." Franck said with a grateful nod, Paulette took the wine out of her hand and muttered a quick thanks before running off to where the party _really_ was. Theresa sighed, looking around and then moving to follow them actually, since she knew very well that the roof was that way.

"Theresa!" Meg's voice came to her and she felt her arm being dragged back to where she was before. "Where have you been hiding?" She asked her, Meg's sweet smile flashed to her. She was by far the most sweetest dancer in there. She added, "I've been looking all over for you in here."

Theresa looked around nervously and through her smile, she stated, "Same for you, you should've saved me sooner," Theresa looked over at the Contes she was talking to before, who had her back to her talking to someone else now. "I've spent a horrible time talking to people that I barely knew. I had no idea what the higher class really talked about until today."

She chuckled, "You got to get used to these parties, Theresa. Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André happen to really enjoy them and like to celebrate anything that has a holiday."

Theresa shook her head disapprovingly, she had to get used to this all still. She stated sarcastically to Meg, "How exciting." They both laughed and Theresa took a chance to look around for Henri. Seeing him make his way toward her, no side conversations distracting him this time, Theresa breathed in sharply and looked to Meg. Theresa had to go... now. She said to her apologetically, "I apologize, Meg, but I really must be going."

Meg raised an eyebrow at her friend and before she could ask a question, Theresa quickly walked to where Franck and Paulette had gone. Meg looked around curiously, wondering why Theresa had to leave so abruptly. Meg had a feeling of where she was going, but it wasn't like Theresa to join the maids, the other dancers, and stage hands in the back behind the stage. They sometimes were more wild than they should be.

Henri came up to Meg in search of Theresa... he could've sworn that he had just saw her here. "Oh, Henri," her recently fallen smile was revived when Meg saw him. Henri smiled back at her, looking the way he thought Theresa had gone.

"Meg," he greeted her with a nod as he turned back to look at her. Where was this woman now? He was trying to get a single dance with her, at least, this entire time, but since they moved apart from the grand stairs, they hadn't been in contact. And whenever he would try to get her, she would move away! Or he would get distracted by someone calling him. Henri noticed how exceptionally beautiful Meg was at that moment, but he shrugged it off, he had a one-track mind most of the time. But her pure white dress made her skin and blonde hair more vibrant.

"I'm looking for Theresa," he started to her. Why did Meg have the slightest feeling that he was looking for Theresa before? "I just saw her here not that long ago. I swear, it's almost like she's avoiding me." It really was and it was aggravating him very much. He never got aggravated easily... especially with women. Theresa was the only one that he found now aggravating. "Any idea on where she had gone?"

Meg gulped, maybe that was why Theresa left so abruptly. She looked around and stated to him truthfully, "She left so suddenly that I really don't know, monsieur."

Henri's shoulders slumped. He looked behind his shoulder to see the way to the theatre, but the back way. Henri looked back at Meg curiously. "What's back there?" He asked. "I saw her go back there before, I think... anyway, Meg, did she go back there? I need to talk to her."

"I don't—."

"Meg, please, I know you do." He cut her off, he wasn't going to take no for an answer. It wasn't that he needed to talk to her really, he just had to see her at that moment. Meg sighed, and explained to him what was back there. Henri paid attention and, he wouldn't blame her for going to that side, it sounded more enjoyable than over there. Though it could get wild, a little too wild for a woman such as Theresa, as Meg would put it. He smiled warmly toward her and nodded thankfully, before heading off to catch up to Theresa.

* * *

Erik stood on top of the roof with his cloak flaring behind him as the wind caressed it. He stood by the statue, looking over at the exact spot that he crumpled the rose that belonged to his Christine. His white mask that covered half of his face was shrouded by the dark fabric that covered Paris and his green eyes moved to the edge of the building. Balls. The managers truly never changed, they would always find an excuse to throw one. He didn't get it. Erik didn't even try to get it even when the thought had run through his mind several times before this one.

The _Opera Populaire _was definitely more different. It would never go back to its original glory, he knew very well, like it had before the fire. He didn't understand why they actually risked it again. They obviously had their heads more up their asses than they had six years ago. Maybe if they kept their heads in the office they would make less _naïve _choices like the reopening. He had unknowingly to them helped though, sending mysterious blueprints of designs to those that were on construction. Erik stood with the original design and late at night, when there were no workers at all there, he would do a little bit of his own work on the building as well.

The workers actually went along with the plan _he_ had given them, which actually surprised Erik. He leaned his back onto the statue, sitting on it slightly in deep thought. So much had changed within him. It was all in more anguish and despair that he had felt. Erik went into his pocket and took out the ring that was hers, playing with it. The moment when she had given it back to him, showed in front of his eyes suddenly, a nightmare repeating, thinking that she had chose him over... Raoul, but no. She had taken off the ring and gave it back to him. His heart felt like tearing once again like it had.

He hadn't even composed a piece of music in a while... music was his passion, and it used to come so easily when he found himself inspired... now, he couldn't even find a song that he could match a voice with to use to help him. No inspiration like he had before. No Christine to spark even a small melody in his head!

Ugh, and that new soprano that they had gotten... used way too much emotion! She used so much emotion that it could _kill_ the music! Erik felt tense only thinking about it, thinking that in his letter he should've been more harsher than only saying that she had to improve a little bit.

Her name didn't even stick in his mind for that long. She was not going to be memorable, he knew. The woman was too sweet for her own good. Erik was trying to decide if that would ruin the singer more or get her quickly replaced since she would most definitely allow it. She wouldn't even throw a tantrum like a normal Prima Donna would do.

She had the talent, he would admit, the sound of her voice was good. But the new soprano would push it to the point of it being strained. She didn't have enough control and for some reason, Erik was the only one that would point it out. In her defence, the character that she was playing was definitely rough and evil, but even when Lady Macbeth was supposed to be vulnerable and weak, she was powerful and never changing.

He didn't realize how long he was on top of the roof. But when he heard the door open suddenly, Erik moved further into the shadow of the statue. He watched and waited to see who was it that entered in on his thoughts. And then, through the dark he saw dark hair, that was pulled back. The certain soprano was right there. _What is she doing here?_ He narrowed his eyes at her to see that she was crying, or she had been, her cheeks shined under the very dim light. This was the first time that he had seen her this close.

Yesterday, he saw her from the box he used to observe rehearsals and shows, but this was closer.

Without warning, she looked over to where he was before and he moved his body so that it was against the statue perfectly. Erik caught her shoulders moving up and down before she actually moved to where Erik was. Exactly where he was, too. He silently huffed and moved further back, to get out of her line of sight. She wasn't paying much mind to anything, though Erik knew that she was too close to him. It was dangerous if she ever decided to turn around, but he hadn't moved, watching her curiously. "I'll show them," she muttered to herself.

She spat a sort of hatred that Erik wouldn't expect. _Hate?_ This woman could actually _hate?_ She never seemed like that. The woman was wearing a long, pale blue dress that exposed a part of her shoulders, he noticed. She wiped the wetness off her cheeks, "I'll show them all now."

Theresa closed her eyes and leaned her head back onto the statue, feeling its not-so-cold surface. Someone was here before not too long ago. She opened her eyes and looked both right and left to see if this person was there still, but no, she felt like she was alone. The French, May air felt strangely cold to her as it settled. She liked it and now felt content.

"I'm going to make a name for myself, not to worry," she said to herself as a reassurance. Erik was still there, watching from behind. "My name isn't Angelina Baccelli. It's Theresa Baccelli." Ah, that was her name. Erik noticed her thick accent, never had she sang with it. Maybe that was why her voice was hard for her to control. "Even dead the woman is still ruining _my _own life. It still feels like hers." Theresa paused, crossing her arms over her chest. A cold, harsh feeling of how music used to be a burden to her came over. She looked up and used her hand to demonstrate with the other, smacking her knuckles into the palm.

"Practice, practice, practice, practice," her breath was trembling as she tried to imitate her mother's sneer and voice. She felt her eyes watering once again like they had after going through a mess of people to get up there. Her mind was whirling with thoughts, all about the past and before taking the job as the soprano she thought that she was passed all of this. She was stronger than to let this go to her head, of course she wasn't really. She fell into a trap by being swept off by Henri, only just meeting him! "I'm going to turn just like _her, _if I continue this._"_

"And who would ever want to be that witch?" She muttered. Theresa could hear her mother scowling at her already, about posture, about eating right, about singing higher, sing without the accent, more power, save your breath, and it all bothered her. She had put up with it for twelve years since her father's death. Erik stood still, this was not the sweet girl that he had observed since the week before. No, this girl was darker than he imagined her.

Theresa sighed looking down at her wrists, "I could've gotten married and had children by now," she chuckled spitefully. "It was like she shackled me somewhere and didn't want me to leave home... but she hated me also... so how does that make a bit of sense?" She used her hands to wipe tears that were slowly coming from her eyes. He took a quiet step forward to see genuine sadness coated on her face. "And the shackles are still there, laughing at me."

The woman who was unknowingly pouring her heart and soul out to him, held up her wrists to demonstrate. Though, nothing was there, it wasn't hard to see what her metaphor actually meant. Theresa closed her eyes for a moment, letting her anger be controlled. She didn't want it to be too out of control, if she knew her own pattern she would spat in her native tongue curses and harsh statements that she wouldn't want other people to understand. She told herself, "I need to try something new, that's what I need to do. Music's still my life and I love it, but not like that."

Erik tilted his head up, he was unconsciously playing with the ring in his large and gloved hands as he listened in. Theresa nodded slowly, "Yes, something new. The _Phantom_ might even like that too," Erik caught the sense of mockery in her tone once he had heard him being mentioned. He narrowed his eyes at her scornfully. "My biggest triumph would be surprising _that _apparition. In fact, after the gala he should send me a rose for my amazing performance, to prove that he isn't a rumour... or a joke." The mockery and humour cut through the sadness of the thin air around her.

She chuckled lightly and leaned her head back, shutting her eyes calmly. "Something new, I like the sound of that," she muttered under her breath. She sighed, thinking of a way she could change her voice. The way her mother wanted her to sing made her seem more like a clone of her, which was impossible, her voice couldn't be controlled when she would try. _Sheer luck_, her mind told her viciously, taking her away from her sudden light mood.

_You were lucky, you sung a scale, a simple one and they both clapped for you. The fact that your mother was a soprano and taught you everything she knows, just added points, _Theresa gritted her teeth angrily, the voice in her head didn't stop. It continued, getting harsher and making Theresa's blood boil. _You have no control of your voice, you try to hit notes that you cannot hit, and you cannot take any criticism, what does that tell you? You are a talentless, piece of—._

_"Io non ce la faccio più, cazzo, no!"_Theresa shouted out loud without realizing, walking away from the statue, gripping her ears to make those negative voices stop. She began to pant and she closed her eyes in an effort to get her decorum. How hard that decorum was to achieve? Extremely. She was talking to herself on a roof, crying and talking to herself. She was becoming mad. They were the first signs of madness, too. Theresa sighed and then cleared her throat, she felt strange on this rooftop... like someone was watching her. She hoped that she was wrong, if anyone heard her rants and how she truly was behind closed doors, it would be so humiliating and shameful.

She was silent for a moment to hear if someone was there with her, but there was no sound at all. A mouse scampering by could be heard with the silence that she was around. Theresa gathered up her courage to take this time to ask loudly, walking to the statue, looking around her cautiously, "Who's there?"

Erik remained silent, hearing her voice once more. She was clever, knowing that someone else was there with her. He didn't even make a sound, not that he recalled. He put his back to the statue, in a way for him not to be seen by her. The other opening to the roof wasn't too far away, but if he made a quick exit she would definitely see him. If he didn't _want_ to be seen by her, the smarter thing that he could've done was leave when she wasn't paying attention.

Theresa narrowed her eyes where she was standing, she smirked, though she could feel the embarrassment of someone listening in on her. She joked, "Is that the Phantom of the Opera right there?"

Her steps became slower as she made her way back to the same spot. Still there was silence. Erik was debating if he should make his presence known to the naïve girl, but it was too late. The ring he was playing with soon fumbled out of his hand and fell onto the roof, making a light sound on the wood as it did. Theresa's ears perked from the only thing that was sounding around her and her eyes narrowed on it sceptically. Erik looked to his hand and before he could get it back quickly, Theresa was already picking it up off of the roof.

When she had gotten up, Theresa looked down at the ring. It was... beautiful. Absolutely beautiful, she felt the diamonds smiling up at her as she stared. Theresa turned the ring around in between her fingers, thinking it either to be an engagement ring or a wedding ring. She couldn't decide at all. "Give it."

Her head snapped up and she saw a large shadow looming in front of her. He wore almost all black and it was so dark where he stood that all she could see of him would be the faint image of a mask. Her mouth parted and her eyes went wide, not really frightened, but shocked that a man was standing right in front of her. He was tall, at least, maybe seven inches taller than her and his eyes, or eye... she could only see one looking at her clearly, were green. Theresa straightened her back, staying there stiff as a board with her chest starting to tighten. The tone of his voice was soft, but she knew that he was forceful also just by how he said his demand.

"Didn't you hear me?" He scowled louder, making Theresa inhale sharply. "I said give it to me." Theresa looked to her hand that held the ring and saw that she was shaking it. She gulped, slowly nodding as her trembling hand slowly placed it on the awaiting palm of the man in front of her. The leather and her skin made light contact before he snatched it away from her, closing his hand in a fist as he stuffed it into his breast pocket.

Theresa stood there, feeling like she just froze where she stood as her eyes lingered carefully on the figure in front of her. Her face softened when she felt her anxiety of him go away. She started, "Who—?" Theresa was interrupted by the door opening to the roof.

The two snapped their heads to the door to see that it was a man that Erik couldn't name. He couldn't risk getting seen, the girl could keep a secret he assumed. "Theresa?" Henri's voice came through and Theresa, panicked and still slightly flabbergasted, looked over at the man.

Calmly, Erik put a finger to his lips to not mention him.

"I-I'm over here," she answered, still trying to recover from her shock. She watched the man hide behind the statue's shadow before she turned to go over to where she thought Henri had been. He smiled at her genuinely and she tried to muster one as well, but her head was whirling in a hundred different directions all at once. She could barely think or stand on her two feet.

Henri stopped in his walk and looked her up and down unsure, but his smile still remained. Finally he got her where he wanted her. Though, she didn't look well, she looked sick to her stomach and... frightened almost. His smile fell a bit, showing a bit of concern in his eyes. He asked her, "What's the matter? You look as though you have just seen a ghost."

"Ghost?" She repeated. Henri eyed her carefully and walked closer to her with a cautious step. Theresa shook her head, "No, I..." she trailed off, still at a lost for words. She silently cursed herself for being so foolish and stammering _like_ a fool. Theresa assured him once she was ready, "I haven't seen no ghost."

Erik rolled his eyes and quietly sighed, terrible liar this girl was. Henri cocked his eyebrow, clearly noticing (like Erik) that her sentence made little to no sense at all. "So you have seen a ghost?"

Theresa parted her mouth, still slightly speechless, but shook her head. She corrected herself from before, "I mean... I have not seen a ghost. Nope, no ghost. There's no such things, Henri, don't be silly."

"I'm afraid to tell you that I am _not_ the silly one here, my lady," he stated to her, though humor was in his voice, he was concerned for her still. He chuckled and asked her, "Why are you out here anyway? I think I've been looking for you all night." _I know_, she thought to herself, _that's why I came up here and away from _you_._

Theresa quieted down her thoughts, "Really? Well," she chuckled nervously looking around herself with a nervous grin, "I'm right here. The air in the ball was unbearable for me. So... I came out here, hoping that I could get some fresh air." It was partly true, so it wasn't much of a lie. But she also came out here to rant in privacy, knowing that she wouldn't be safe in her room or anywhere else. "Now, w-why are you here?" She didn't know why she had asked since she was afraid for the answer.

Henri answered more simply than she had, "Why, I came here looking for you. I saw you talking to Meg and go this way. The way up here was enjoyable, but I had a feeling that you wouldn't want to be caught up in it. So I figured you were up here." _So, you followed me?_ Her mind was pondering on whether or not if she should ask that question.

Her only response was a quiet, "Oh."

Henri nodded, but he took several steps toward her with his hand held out to her to grab. Theresa narrowed her eyes at it pointedly, "Yes, 'oh' is right. Come on," he started with his grin, showing partly his white teeth. "I must get you back in that ballroom, we don't want people noticing your absence, now do we?" She shook her head no slowly. "You owe me several waltzes, too. Hate to remind you of that."

Theresa smirked, and slowly placed her hand on top of his to be led back. Henri's face showed his triumph and quickly, he led her away from where she was. Theresa looked around the roof puzzled to see if the man was still up there and by her surprise, when Henri opened the door for her... she caught a glimpse of him, watching her carefully and thankfully. Thankfully? Why would he look at her like that? Now that she had seen him with a bit more light on him, she noticed that he had a white mask that only covered half of his face. His eyes were still lingering on her and she now really saw that they were green.

Her thoughts were dwelling on him until she realized that Henri was looking at her, waiting. "Mademoiselle," he started to her, his eyebrows furrowed.

Theresa looked back at him, "Hmm?"

Henri looked at her strangely, seeing that her mind was definitely somewhere else. He told her, still holding the door open for her, "Ladies first." He bowed his head gentlemanly and cautiously. Theresa smiled at him sweetly, but before she left, she looked around once more on the roof to see if the man she had saw earlier was still there looking at her. But he wasn't. He disappeared in the matter of seconds.

"Thank you," she muttered, looking forward and going before Henri. He stood at the door for a moment, looking around at the roof curiously. What was she looking at before? As Henri's eyes scanned for some odd shape, he found that he couldn't find it at all. It was nowhere. Henri sighed before closing the door behind them to go inside after her.

* * *

_**So I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! If you haven't yet, don't forget to like my Facebook page for sneak peeks, this story's character bios of both Theresa and Henri, and other information. Next update will be on October 21st! Thank you for reading!**_


	4. The Story of the Phantom

_**Hello everyone! I know I was supposed to update this story on Sunday, but I've been behind on all my updates because of college planning and stuff like that. So I hadn't really been able to write. Sorry for my lateness :(. I hope you enjoy the update and thank you to those who reviewed! And btw, today anyway is a very symbolic day to me, since today was the day when I actually first started to watch Phantom! :D (yes, I do remember the exact day) Anyway, hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

_Chapter IV: The Story of the Phantom_

"No, absolutely not!"

"Monsieur Reyer," Theresa started, following him into the orchestra pit and getting off the empty stage. Everyone was either eating during this short break or talking about their gossip from the ball still. It was a few days before they would all perform Macbeth and it took a while for Theresa to be brave enough to confront Reyer about her different sound. They hadn't been rehearsing _her_ scenes all that much, but she was practising day and night to perfect it in the matter of days. Theresa tried to sing the aria she would sing for her encore, but how the composer wrote it was not what she would want for her début.

How she remembered the music going for the encore, didn't match up with her.

_'What the composer writes is not in stone,'_ she was told once. Theresa was hoping that they would change not the notes, but the tempo and the dynamics, making it more _piano _when it was supposed to be _mezzo forte_. She continued to him, with no idea what she was going into with confronting him, (though she still didn't expect it to still go down hill like it was going now) "It's not the whole opera, it's one aria. An aria _that_ is my encore. All I am asking is if we could look over the score to make the second time I'll sing it different from the first. Like... making it more interesting for the audience."

Reyer breathed in evenly and placed his baton on his stand. He looked over at Theresa and stated, trying not to show his agitation at the moment, "Normally I would allow it, but it's only three days before the show! It is impossible for us to perfect changes to the music for that amount of time."

She corrected for him positively, "Monsieur, nothing is impossible."

"Then, excuse me, improbable! It is extremely unlikely that we'll perfect them even if we tried. It's _unheard _of to do last minute changes with them working right away. We've rehearsed them how it is, next time we'll make changes to the music, but now, no!" Theresa's shoulders slumped exasperated and found that this was all useless. He had a point, there would not perfect it in time, it was indeed _improbable_.

"I understand, I am sorry for bothering you about it," her voice at first was defeated, but when she was about to turn around a voice she thought to be in her head told her, _'Don't quit, you are more than right_._' _Theresa's mouth parted when she had heard how familiar that voice sounded and she looked to Reyer, adding, "but," Reyer sighed loudly, being caught mid-step.

He turned around with his face twisted with annoyance, he wanted to go on his _own_ break, not stay and deal with her. She didn't continue, going through the right words in her head before actually doing so. She said 'but' more on impulse rather than thinking through it before saying it out loud.

Reyer repeated, "But?"

She breathed in, carefully stating to him, "We'll do it in sections, start with the weakest players in each section and then the strongest, then we'll do it together."

"That will take all day, mademoiselle, all day!"

Theresa told him calmly, "Then we'll work all day."

"We cannot just stop everything else for _your_ benefit, mademoiselle," he told her in a rather icy, cold tone. It didn't bother Theresa, she was expecting some of this meeting for him, which was why she had talked to the other performers before actually going to _him. __"__What_ would the dancers and the other performers say about this?"

"All taken care of," she insisted to him, earning a bit of confusion back. Reyer raised his eyebrow at her as she explained, "I had talked to Madame Giry to take the dancers to rehearse their steps without the music to see if they got their timing right," which was hard to do. Like Monsieur Reyer, she had said no at first, but somehow, some way, Theresa got her to say yes after persuading her. It was still a blur, though it was only this morning since she had spoken to her. "Monsieur D'Aubigne, our Macbeth, also had agreed to this. He told me he needed more practice with the final scene anyway. He never fully got to understand the choreography of the sword fight between him and Monsieur Blair, so he would like to do that."

"So, you've asked everyone else before you came to me?" He asked sceptically. Theresa didn't know if she should nod to him, but she did, and slowly, too. "So you were anticipating that I would say yes?" _Yes, _her mind admitted, but she didn't want to make it seem like she had done that. Not at all.

When she was about to answer honestly, a voice told her to, _'Lie.'_ It was too clear to be in her mind, but it was soft since it was only her that actually heard it. Reyer didn't even flinch at the sound of it. Theresa suddenly felt that she was going insane since the night of the ball, seeing that man on the roof with her, made herself seem crazy. The velvet voice that was cold and icy there... matched the voice that just spoke to her. Only, it wasn't cold and icy... it sounded more advising to her if anything different. Did that really make sense? To her, even though it was what she thought, it didn't.

She shrugged it off, thinking that he was only a part of her imagination that got the best of her, but it wasn't. It was far too real for it to be. Theresa still felt the leather brushing up on her hand as she gave him the ring and she remembered how intense his look was on her when she had left the rooftop that night. His eyes, his mask, his dark clothes... she remembered it all vividly, even the sound of his scowl that seemed to match the voice now. How could she imagine him if he was vividly there?

But she had to have imagined him... maybe she was delusional on that roof. She did drink too much wine when she went up there.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, before speaking again. "Not at all, I only was preparing for if you do say yes. I was hoping, not at all anticipating." Her voice was shaking as she spoke. She was never good at lying.

The _same_ voice stated to her almost with some humour, _'You're a terrible liar,' _it almost startled her again of how clear it sounded to her again. Especially since it was almost like it read her thoughts before. Reyer looked at her for a moment, before shaking his head, making Theresa's shoulders slump again. "You have gone through so much trouble doing this, but I apologize. The answer is still no, mademoiselle."

"Fine, that's fine." Theresa nodded, understandingly. "I just wanted to ask you... to see if it is okay, but I understand completely. Thank you for your time."

She turned on her heel again and went to walk away once again, but the voice came back to her and more annoyed, too._'You're a Prima Donna, act like it!'_ Theresa raised her eyebrow, well how would one act? Her eyes scanned for the man that had been speaking with her, thinking that he must be closer to her to have his voice come to her clearly, but she couldn't find that figure at all.

This man must be haunting her, she was hearing voices now. He wasn't real though... he was a delusion. Yes, she was _imagining_ him that night. Even if he was a figment of her imagination, she decided to follow his advice. She held her head up strong, coming up with an idea. She told him with her back to him, in a strong, determined tone, "It is my début though," Reyer stopped where he was, hearing that tone coming from her.

His experience with Prima Donnas had told him that this tone was not good. Not a tone that would result in the managers being at all happy with _him_. He turned on his heel as she slowly did the same to face him, with her voice determined as well as her eyes and her face hard as stone. The warm colour that was there before disappeared and her hazel eyes were more dark than before. "I want to show what I am truly made of, monsieur. But with only three days to the gala, I think that wouldn't be much time to get a new soprano by the reopening. And it would be terrible if you didn't have a replacement for me, wouldn't it? The managers would love hearing the reason behind my sudden leave."

Theresa didn't mean to say what she said... it wasn't her intention to sound so harsh. _Would that be what a Prima Donna would say?_ She questioned unsure. For a moment, Reyer stood there unmoving and as the time elapsed, the face on Theresa began to fall from being hard to soft. She had the strangest feeling that he had dealt with this before, this would be the last time she would be rude like that. But soon he nodded with a loud sigh, Theresa used all her restraint to not show how shocked she was from it. "I'll do as my diva commands," he told her.

Diva? Theresa's eyes widened, a diva? She hadn't even made her début to the public yet and already he was calling her a diva... a star. She gulped, feeling something overwhelm her. She tried to smile at him, though it was hard, she was too forceful and already she felt the guilt. "If it doesn't work, Monsieur Reyer, we'll keep the music as is, I tell you. It would be just as the composer will write it as, I promise." The guilt for some reason made her take back her words before, she didn't mean to make it sound that she wanted to leave if it didn't go her way, even though that was what she had said before...

She continued before she could stop herself, "I wasn't going to leave if you say no, I wasn't, in fact if you don't want to, I'll understand. If you are worried—."

She was cut off by the low, harsh scowl that was so clear and so familiar that it sent chills up her spine, _'You fool, this could go the wrong way for you now.'_ Theresa shook it off, though her body visibly tensed and became stiff. She wasn't fearful, she was more worried, not only did she hear her mother's voice, but now she heard a man's voice that she hadn't known the owner of. She added to what she was being said before, but in a more slower pace. "Then you mustn't have to go through with it, I wasn't going to leave... if you based your decision off of that then I—."

Monsieur Reyer interrupted her, chuckling at her being baffled, "You are far too humble, mademoiselle." He meant it as a compliment to her, but Theresa had cast her eyes downward. But what he said made a smile known on her, she looked back up. "But I will tell you, we will see what changes we could make together while we look over the score."

_'Maybe you aren't as naïve as I imagined, signora.' _There was the voice again! But instead of it being harsh it sounded more impressed, it didn't dismay her, like she... expected it would do again. Suddenly a surge of excitement ran through her, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She said to Monsieur Reyer going up to him quickly and hugging him tightly to her. Reyer knitted his eyebrows together in slight confusion and his reluctance made him pat her back and try to grin awkwardly. She moved back with her mood boosted up, "You will not regret this, monsieur, I will assure you. You will not!"

Reyer chuckled lightly and nodded, "Let us hope that no regret will become of this, mademoiselle."

"I don't need to hope, I know." She told him reassuringly.

Reyer grinned and nodded, "Then we'll see if you know after your break from rehearsal, when you are done come back in here and we'll get started with what you think you want to do and we'll look over it with the musicians, how is that?"

"Perfect." Theresa stated to him, not dropping her smile. Her mind was clear and she turned on her heel quickly to go to where most of the performers were.

There was a room for eating, it wasn't the kitchen, neither a dining room, it was more of a small room that could fit thirty people at a time. Theresa's mind kept dwelling on the fact that her idea was in the works, the gears in her head was working on what she wanted to do. Now, she didn't know notes for a violinist or a flautist or a horn player, nor did she know what dynamics worked with the three types, but she did happen to have a conductor helping her with this.

It was a long walk, it seemed, but she knew it wasn't. The pace she was going was slow and steady. Her mind wandered too often and her eyes were wandering just as much as her mind was. She heard the chatter of many people growing closer and louder as it did. She must have been close and her ears were starting to ring, someone told her that would usually mean someone was talking about _her_. She shrugged it off not really minding it and entered in the room, smelling the sweet food.

Whatever the chef made for their lunch today smelled delicious. With a smile still on her face, she made her way toward the counter where Chef Dupant was talking with a maid. All that was left were two bowls and a piece of bread, the warmth of it could be smelt, it must have been fresh. Theresa didn't recognize the maid, only being in the opera house for at least two weeks, she hadn't met much of the help. Theresa looked around to see only one table with people actually huddled around it. She raised her eyebrow, but didn't inquire, but she had seen Henri and Emile among them.

When she approached Dupant and the maid, the chef turned toward her with an elated smile, "Ciao, signora," he stated, he had been talking to her in Italian, since he knew the language himself very well actually from doing training with a chef there. It was a refresher of back home and to speak some of her native language with him wasn't a way for her to have her thoughts wander to Naples. He started this in the beginning of the week, she didn't know much French except for the essentials. It was nice to talk like she had usually, instead of English or French, or whatever language the great country that the French reside in spoke!

"Ciao, signore, come è la vostra giornata oggi?" She asked him with a strange sparkle in her eyes, probably from her hunger or that she was still happy about how her meeting went with Reyer. She really couldn't decide at all.

The heavy-set Frenchman replied with a nod, "Good, come è la vostra giornata oggi, signora?"

She chuckled and nodded, "Exceptional."

Dupant looked at her doubtfully with his grin turning crooked, "Exceptional, mademoiselle?" Theresa nodded quickly as Dupant took the olive oil and balsamic vinegar with a small plate to accompany it out. The maid by them looked Theresa over dimly, not speaking a word to her nor introducing herself. She didn't notice the look, being completely oblivious of it and dazed from the previous events. She couldn't wait to tell at least someone! Dupant chuckled lightly, "You went from nervous to exceptional in all but a few hours, mademoiselle, tell me what has changed your mood?"

Her smile became broader and she stated to him, "You mustn't tell a soul, Dupant."

He seemed a bit taken back by that and raised his eyebrow, but nevertheless he nodded unsure. He assured, "Not a soul."

"I talked to Monsieur Reyer today and asked him if it would be okay if we look over the score together to see if we could change some of the details for the aria that I would be singing for the encore," _if the audience asks for it,_ she thought. Hopefully they were, every Prima Donna she had heard of did have an encore. Her voice became hushed, she still didn't notice that the maid was eying her dimly. She continued to him, "and at first he refused it—."

"Well, that doesn't sound so happy, mademoiselle." Dupant interjected with a chuckle.

Theresa rolled her eyes and tried not to sound annoyed when she stated to him, "Well, if you didn't interrupt me then let me finish," Dupant could hear the impatience in her tone and his grin grew, nodding. "Anyway, what had happened was that I somehow managed to get him to say yes! It took heavy persuasion, though, mind you," she saw a look on Dupant's face that he seemed not as excited as she was about like she actually was. "Don't look at me like that. It's exciting!"

Dupant poured the oil and the vinegar into the small plate and nodded, telling her sarcastically, "Of course it is, I'm shivering just from the excitement down to my boots!"

She shook her head, "You don't have to fake your excitement for me."

Dupant told her, pushing the bowl of soup and bread with the small plate toward her, "If music was my passion then believe me, then I will be more than excited for you, but my passion isn't that." Theresa frowned, though the amusement in her eyes visibly showed to him. Dupant pointed to the food, "I made your favourite today, mademoiselle, pasta fagioli, I dug up the recipe from my days in Italy and thought that today would be the day that you will get to try _mine_."

Theresa's eyes widened and a smile was curving on her lips, she thanked him excitedly, "Grazie, monsieur! If it weren't for you, I don't think my day could've gotten any better."

"No problem, signora," he replied with a slight nod to her. That was when the maid cleared her throat to have the attention brought to her. The two looked over and Theresa laid eyes on the petite blonde girl that couldn't be no more than eighteen years of age. She was pretty, her face held innocence as well did her brown eyes, that were big and round. "Oh, how rude of me!" Dupant stated, putting his hand on his forehead. He placed a hand on the maid's shoulder as both Theresa and her took in each other. "Signora Baccelli, this is Bernadette. She is one of the best maids in the house!"

"Oh," Bernadette started rather modestly, a flash of red crossed her cheeks as she looked down at the ground, "I wouldn't say that, monsieur."

"Why not, mademoiselle? It is very much true!" Bernadette shook her head head no and crossed her arms over her chest, throwing a glare at him. Dupant laughed at her teasingly and continued to Theresa whose smile actually grew just watching them, "She is much like you, signora, sweet and kind. You two could be really good friends."

Bernadette smiled lightly at Theresa and curtsied to her, "It's a pleasure to meet you, made—."

Theresa cut her off with the bow of her head, "Theresa, please... call me Theresa, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Bernadette." Bernadette nodded back at her and Theresa then looked at the two of them, "Well, I should really get to my meal. Grazie, Dupant, you really didn't have to make this for me, especially since it probably has taken all morning to make it."

"Ah, but it's very much worth it, mademoiselle. I wanted to make it again some day anyway." Theresa chuckled and nodded to him. She then took her meal into her hands to make her way to the table that wasn't huddled at all. But she kept a careful eye on it, her ears caught traces of the conversation as she did. Reaching the table, she placed her meal onto it, still staring. The tones quieted down once she had arrived, but they were loud enough to reach her. She sat down, taking her bread in her hands and dipping it into the oil unconsciously.

When she had taken a bite out of her bread, Henri and Emile looked over to see her. They weren't sure if they should smile at her and wave her over or go to them. The gossip about the Phantom did spread over the course of the week, though nothing odd had even happened yet, except... for that note that Theresa picked up. That was what started it, the note. The people from the theatre, that _returned_, looked around soon after Theresa had left with it. They looked up at the rafters, into dark corners, to see if they would see a shadow or something around them.

The person who looked around especially was Madame Giry, she tried to keep her face calm, but visibly the shock from the note was evident. The two people from the table walked over to where Theresa was seated, who was focused now more on eating and getting that done rather than the gossip at the other side. "Well, well," Henri started with a grin taking an empty seat next to her. She looked up at him, caught in mid-chew. Theresa gulped down what she could as he continued, "look who finally decided to show up to eat."

Theresa greeted him sarcastically, "Hello to you, too."

"Bonjour," Emile said with her small smile, showing the dimples in her cheeks. She sat across from Theresa and Henri. Her brown eyes were small and dark, they could almost be considered black. Her hair was also dark against her porcelain white skin, sometimes when a person would look at her she looked like an oversized doll with a pointed nose and small ears. Though, her hair was extremely curly, thick, and it would reach to the middle of her back. Often, Theresa would joke with her that she would kill for that sort of hair, she hated how hers was, most of the time, straight with the exception of a few waves.

"Hello," Theresa paid more attention to her food, hearing a low growl from her stomach. She dipped her bread again in the oil and vinegar before taking a bite of her soaked piece.

"Now, are you going to tell me what I am doing today or is Monsieur Reyer going to tell me what I am doing today?" Henri asked her curiously with a wink. Theresa cocked her brow as she gulped down her bread. What did he mean by that? Theresa looked to Emile, who was also unsure of what he would mean by that. She looked over at Henri who was nodding toward her in a way to get the idea in her head. It took a moment, but soon she got it easily.

She nodded taking her spoon and dipping just enough to get the red soup with beans and macaroni. She replied shortly before sipping the soup elegantly, the hotness of it soothed her throat, "He agreed to it."

Emile leaned over the table, not sure of what they would mean by it, "Agreed to what, Theresa?"

For a moment, Theresa had forgotten that she hadn't told her good friend about this at all. Theresa sighed and placed her spoon on her plate. Like she had with Dupant, she smiled as she explained her good news, "I wanted to do something different for the aria. At first, he had done what Henri said he would do," she glared over at him annoyed as he took a piece off her bread without her consent once he was mentioned, "and refused, but then he said yes with some persuasion and we will be working on it when the break is done."

Henri went to dip the piece of bread into the oil, Theresa snatched it out of his hand and scowled playfully, "And you should learn to not steal a woman's bread, monsieur. Manners aren't your forte."

"That is wonderful!" Emile stated, ignoring what had just happened, with a smile that was almost as big as Theresa's was before.

Henri shook his head no, closing his eyes, "For her it is," he stated, taking the bread out of Theresa's hand as she was about to eat it herself, "for you, it is not. She gets to practice her own piece while I am practising on stage with Josef and the others during the final fighting scene. And _you,"_ he pointed to the ballerina as he ate the piece under Theresa's hard glare that was thrown at him. While he was chewing, he finished, "are probably going to have to either warm-up or do drills, or rehearse somewhere without using the stage or music to help."

"Well," Emile said with the smile still on her face, "I don't mind that, I don't mind doing those things anyway; but what I do mind is a man chewing loudly and talking at the same time by my ear." Henri stopped chewing to narrow his eyes at her and swallowed down all that was in his mouth. Theresa chuckled, shaking her head. She tried so hard not to laugh loudly and when she looked at his expression from the shock of how an innocent girl like Emile retorted to him like that, she had to bite the inside of her mouth to control it.

"Just like I said before," Theresa started to her friend, "manners isn't something that has been taught to him." Henri scoffed next to them as he took a drink of the water in his glass. Theresa smirked at him, but the gossip by them was starting to get on her nerves from the group of people at that table. "You two were just over there, right?" She nodded toward the table with her eyes locked on it. Henri and Emile followed her gaze over there then back at her.

Henri nodded. "We were actually waiting for your arrival here, princess." He told her with a bit of mockery in it. Theresa rolled her eyes and looked to Emile who nodded somewhat that it was a little true.

Theresa sighed, "Why are so many huddled over there?"

"Old woman gossip," Henri sneered, the tone actually was shocking to hear from him as he looked away from her and to the ground. Theresa eyed him carefully, seeing a sort of resentment in his eyes.

Emile didn't hesitate in correcting that, bringing Theresa's full attention onto her, "The Phantom of the Opera is said to have returned." Her head snapped toward her just from the name and a shiver up her spine came through her. It wasn't from the fear that others would get, no, it was more a knowing shiver that went through her. Henri wasn't paying attention to the two women, having something plague his mind that haunted him for many years. "Have you heard the story of him, Theresa?"

She shook her head no and Henri rubbing his forehead, stated for her, "I don't think she would want to hear the story of the Phantom, Emile." Theresa heard something in Henri's voice that dampened her mood a bit. "I don't know why anyone would want to hear about that mad man at all."

"I do," she stated, looking at Henri. Theresa nodded toward Emile and stated, "I want to hear about him. The managers only told me that he was a rumour, not a mad man."

"Then they are kidding themselves," Henri muttered with a slight roll of his eyes. His body actually grew stiffer as he shifted in his seat to look at Emile who seemed that she would tell the story. Theresa could easily tell that he had heard it before, and it might have disturbed him. Henri said louder to the two of them, "They obviously don't want her to know if they lied like that."

"So you would like to keep me in the dark still if they had lied to me about it?" She asked him growing annoyed. _Just let her tell me, the Phantom wanted me to know about it judging by the letter where he mentioned me __**in**_, she thought. Theresa watched him carefully before stating to him, "If you don't want to hear it, then I suggest you don't and leave, let her tell me if she wants to. Judging by the gossip anyway, it's not like this will be my only chance to hear it."

Henri mumbled stubbornly something along the lines of, 'I'm not leaving,' before gesturing for Emile to tell it to her. Theresa sighed and faked a smile as she nodded toward Emile to start it. "Well, the Phantom was indeed a man and he lived below this very Opera House for many years. This was _his _Opera House, and many were fearful of him. He wore all black and usually wears a mask that's white and covers half of his face," Theresa kept her eyes from widening, "he demands a salary, and that box 5 is to be left _empty_ for his own personal use when there is an opera."

Henri shook his head and he stated to Emile, "You never even saw him yourself, you only feed off the rumours you hear. And," Theresa heard a humour in his voice that didn't even mean to be there, "you are by far the worst story teller I think has ever opened their mouth before, my dear."

Emile narrowed her eyes at him and stated, "Well, if you say that, then you tell the story, since you are so keen on insulting me."

Henri had a look on his face, almost like he didn't want to at all. His body tensed and he moved his neck side to side, rolling his shoulders in a way to relieve it. He replied, much to Theresa's surprise, "Fine, I'll tell it and I'll do it ten times better than you would."

Emile sighed and shook her head, "I can't wait to hear this."

Henri sent her a glare before turning to Theresa. The words coming out of his mouth could be looked at as rubbish by anyone who really knew the truth. "How she described the Phantom is barely how he is. He's a mad man, Theresa, an obsessive, murderous, mad man. His eyes are sunken in and where his nose should be there is a great black hole, his skin is yellow, sickly yellow and he is thin like he has been starved." Theresa visibly gulped, it seemed disbelieving what he was telling her, but how he was telling it was like he saw him for himself. "The mask he wears is a mask of death, white and covers that half of his face, the man looks like the spawn of the devil! It is the last thing people would see before they would perish with his weapon, a Punjab lasso. Ever hear of it?"

Theresa shook her head no and then he looked to Emile, who actually also seemed entranced with his story. "What about you?" Emile slowly shook her head no, the two of them not saying a word. He rolled his eyes and stated before continuing, "I shouldn't have asked, you barely know a thing of him as is."

Emile parted her mouth to retort, but she closed it, finding that she really had nothing to say and then glared at him spitefully when he spoke, "It's a weapon, almost like a hangman's noose, but it isn't... it's made of a cat's gut," Theresa allowed herself to widen her eyes this time and she pushed the food in front of her away, she no longer had her appetite once gut was mentioned. "He uses it like a noose though, strangles his victims until their necks break under his and the noose's hold," he furrowed his eyes down as Theresa watched him cautiously. He allowed himself a breath before continuing, "Though, you would have to keep your hand up here," he looked back up and held his hand to his eye, "it would stop him."

"Well, the man was always secretive and did actually act like a ghost up until six years ago, demanding high payment from the manager and his box to remain _empty_. But six years ago he really made his presence known," Henri had a distant look in his eye as he looked at Theresa, he was now a totally different person, and not the arrogant, cocky man that she had come to know and be annoyed by several times. "The story of what truly happened is definitely a mystery, but there was an opera called _Il Muto. _The patron sat in _his_ box and then during the ballet..." he trailed off, unsure of what were the right words to say.

Theresa felt herself getting intrigued, she had forgotten the sadness on his face she noticed before, "And? What happened then?"

It took him a moment, "Joseph... Buquet, a stage-hand had seen the Phantom and followed him, I guess. The Phantom used his Punjab... to strangle him and a moment later, Joseph Buquet hung from the rafter," Henri closed his eyes as he felt something in his chest twist and turn, he didn't dare open them. Theresa found the traces of pain in his voice as he continued, "and fell onto the stage, when the rope snapped."

The three remained silent and Theresa looked to her food, though her stomach still growled she didn't even think that she even wanted to eat now. Emile opened her mouth, "You know, there was no proof that the Phantom actually had done it." Theresa snapped her head toward Emile, with her eyebrow cocked. Henri snapped his eyes opened angrily and glared at her. Emile didn't fall under it so easily, "It could've just been an accident."

"An accident?" Henri snarled lowly, making Theresa's face fell. That must've struck a nerve in him. She looked over at him curiously at his sudden, strange behaviour, "You call a man hanging in the middle of an opera a coincidence when only it was a little after the Phantom spoke out? That's the most idiotic thing I've heard in all my life!"

"Henri, he could've tripped on the rafters and had gotten himself snagged in the ropes."

Henri rolled his eyes, he sarcastically said to her, "Yes, that is exactly what had happened. A man got snagged in the ropes in the rafters and the rope magically tied itself in the form of a noose, happens all the time."

"Well, it could've been suicide, too."

"The man wouldn't of committed suicide," Henri told her knowingly. Theresa was only looking between the two of them, feeling like she was caught in the middle of this.

Emile didn't seem to be backing down, the seventeen year old girl, the youngest out of the three, thought she knew everything. Theresa could admit, that Emile could be a know-it-all. She noticed that the first time that they had actually met each other, but she didn't mind it. This time, however, she seemed to have gone a step too far, Theresa couldn't stop it because she didn't know the extent of which how Henri would react to it.

Emile stated to him, "The man was a drunken stage-hand like the lot of them are, I heard he left a woman with a child before coming here to work. You don't know his mindset at the time, so it is absolutely possible that it could—."

"Stop talking as if you know him!" Henri told her harshly with his voice almost in a yell. Theresa and Emile both parted their mouth and gapingly looked at him, the look in his eyes made Theresa cringe. There were so many secrets that were being held in them that she wasn't even sure if she wanted to know anything. Some people in the small dining room had heard what was going on and were looking their way feeling the icy chill in the room. Henri frowned as he took a look around, gulping. He picked up his half-empty glass of water and muttered to them dimly, "I need more water."

"Henri," Theresa called for him and tried to catch his hand, but he left too fast. He was walking such a fast pace that he was already fading away from her sights.

Theresa sighed and looked around to see people still looking over at where she was. She shooed their stares away, "Nothing to look at everyone, pay mind to your own business." Slowly, almost every head turned away from them. Theresa stared down the others to turn around and the scornful look soon made them turn around and carry on with their own business.

Theresa looked back at Emile who seemed to still be in shock by his reaction. Theresa told her sternly, "That was too far to prove a point, Emile. And I know that you know that I'm right."

Emile nodded in agreement as Theresa took a piece off her bread and slowly dipped it into the oil, even though her lunch wasn't at all going to make her feel better. She stated, "Well... I didn't think that I was going to get that sort of reaction from him. I didn't mean to do that."

"I know," she nodded understandingly, looking at her bread. She now really wasn't hungry so she placed it back. Theresa added, "I don't think we ever expected that sort of reaction from that man... ever." _I know I didn't, _she thought to herself. She sighed again, "Just be careful next time, we don't want an outburst from him like that again because of a couple of buttons being pushed."

Emile smiled and nodded, "Yes, exactly, I could see that what I have done could've been annoying, but you must have seen my point... right?"

"That still doesn't justify—." Emile interrupted her.

"But you did, didn't you? I see that you have in your eyes, Theresa."

"I'm not speaking on that, Emile," she told her firmly. Theresa didn't know what had happened truly nor had she heard of it before this time. It was in the past for one thing and she didn't even know about it long enough to judge she thought. She told Emile with her voice a little bit more calmer, with little edge, "I think this calls for a subject change."

"But we haven't finished!" Emile said in almost a whine, making Theresa do a double-take of her.

She shook her head no, "I don't even know if I _want_ to finish this conversation now after what had happened with Henri, Emile."

"But this is about the fire, I'll at least tell it quickly before he would come back," she insisted on it. What was Theresa to say? She wanted to know, but she didn't know if it would be a good idea for her to know at that moment. She threw a careful look behind her shoulder to see that Henri was standing there watching them while Dupant was talking to him. Theresa's shoulders fell compassionately and he turned away from her as he sipped her water. She parted her mouth and looked to Emile, still slightly unsure about it, but her curiosity soon took over.

She sighed and gestured for her to finish it, "But quickly, if you please."

Emile nodded to her and then continued with it, "So later on that year, they performed the opera that the Phantom wrote himself," now why on earth would they do that? Theresa watched her carefully and it was almost as if her mind was read, "it was a way to catch him. They had the place bordered with the police, all armed and ready to take him. But, the Phantom killed off the lead male and took his place, he sang in the opera... with the lead soprano." Theresa's shoulders fell, so those people that had seen the Phantom in the opera were right... if the police were there that would mean that the managers definitely did lie to her.

"I don't know all that much that had happened, but what I do know is that he kidnapped her for himself and brought the chandelier down, setting the _Opera Populaire _on fire. She had taken off his mask before, too, revealing what was under there to almost all of Paris' upper class."

Theresa watched her carefully and shook her head, "What exactly _is_ behind the mask?"

Emile shrugged her shoulders, "Don't know," she admitted to her, "I wasn't there, I was young at the time, around twelve. I only read some of it in the paper."

Theresa nodded, she should have known that. She sighed, "Do you know who the soprano was?"

"Oh, that I do know," Emile started, leaning over the table with her voice a mere whisper, "the last one, she's now the Contes De Chagny, but then she was Miss. Christine Daae." The name was so familiar to her, but she couldn't recall where she had heard it before. The managers probably told her about her when they were trying to get her into the Opera House. As Theresa was taking in some of what had happened with the fire, Emile looked up to see Henri making their way.

Emile stated, "Maybe I should go, warm up before break is over." Theresa looked up with her eyebrow raised and turned her head to see Henri making his way back.

She nodded when she faced Emile, "I think that would be best." Emile muttered a quick 'goodbye' before getting up from her seat and leaving the dining area. Theresa watched her feeling bad that she had felt that she would have to leave, but if Henri was coming back and she was there, Theresa had the strangest feeling that it wouldn't be a pretty sight. Theresa shook her head and looked away to see that people were watching Henri make his way.

She rolled her eyes scowling at them, "Once again, pay mind to _your_ business." Theresa watched them turn back around, and she rubbed her temples to relax. She closed her eyes while continuously rubbing them, she didn't even notice or hear the chair shift next to her.

"Where had Emile gone?" He asked Theresa, she stopped rubbing her temples to see Henri sitting there and looking at her with little emotion.

She sighed, "She... had to do her warm-ups. She wanted to get them started before she would have to rehearse again."

"What a coincidence it is that she had only decided to do that when I was coming back?" He shook his head and held a glass of water for her to take. "I brought you a glass of water, thought that you would be needing it for when you have to work with Monsieur Reyer. It'll help loosen your vocals."

"Thank you," Theresa bowed her head and took it without any question, surprisingly she had forgotten what had happened earlier that day. She took a quick sip of it and stated to him, "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Yeah... I could be thoughtful when I want to," he muttered, his voice was low and it was barely audible for Theresa to hear when she was only a foot away from him.

She gulped and started to him, shifting in her chair to turn her body toward him a bit more, "Henri," he looked into her hazel eyes at the sound of her voice, "if I knew what Emile was going to say before and how you would react to it, I would've stopped her. She went too far with that and I told her that soon after you left. I apologize, I should've never let that topic even begin in the first place."

He smiled at her warmly and took her hand within his, stroking the skin over her knuckles. Theresa felt a surge go through as he did. "It's not your apology to give, my lady. You didn't know, I did know when I started to tell it. I should've let _her_ continue it... not I. If you think that you are at fault then get that silly nonsense out of your head now."

She chuckled lightly and stated, "Well, you're not at fault, so you definitely have no need to apologize."

"That may be," he shook his head, the distant look coming back into his eyes. "But it was definitely easy to prevent, so I'd rather take blame for it." Theresa didn't bother to argue with him, knowing that would get her no where. He chuckled and that seemed to be like music to her ears since it was absent for a bit. He looked to her food and gestured toward it, "You're not going to eat, princess?" When had he started calling her princess?

She didn't bother asking about that to him, shaking her head she told him truthfully, "I lost my appetite the moment when you mentioned a cat's gut." She shivered just from the thought of it.

"Oh, then if you're not going to eat your bread then I might as well," before Theresa could protest, he took the bread in his hand and took a bite out of it. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, but smirked.

"It is not at all nice taking people's food without their permission, monsieur."

"I couldn't agree more, but I never said that I am a polite person who wouldn't do that either, mademoiselle." He grinned at her crookedly after his quick retort.

Theresa sighed, shaking her head, muttering, "Whatever." Henri laughed loudly, taking bites out of the bread while dipping it himself in the olive oil and vinegar. Theresa's smirk dropped when she was reminded that he was still holding her hand, tightly like he wasn't planning on letting go of it any time soon. She asked him before anything, "Henri, can I ask you something?" The tone of her voice made Henri stop chewing and gulping down the last of the bread that was there. He nodded slowly, "How do you know Joseph Buquet? Were you two close?"

_Close? Hardly, I barely knew him,_ he thought to himself, remembering how his father didn't give him the time of day really until he confronted him, scowling. He lied to her, "Yes," he closed his eyes, it still pained him that his father was murdered only a little after they had met. He nodded, opening them, "yes, he was a newly acquired friend of mine."

She smiled at him warmly, he squeezed her hand more in response to it. "It must've been hard to even talk about his death, I know if I have lost a friend after shortly meeting him then I would push it aside and not talk about it at all." Henri gulped loudly and nodded slowly and thankfully. The two stayed there for a while, ignoring the looks thrown their way. Theresa kept her eyes staring into them, exploring the blue and grey colours that were there, but soon she shook her head and took her hand back away from him, trying not to show the crimson blush that dared to make its own appearance.

"I..." she trailed off, at a loss of words.

Henri chuckled lightly, his arrogant smirk made its appearance as she sat there flustered. "You...?" Theresa gulped the nervous lump in her throat down, maybe she was only being paranoid, but she actually did feel the crimson blush make its way on her cheeks. "You know, princess, you have beautiful eyes. Hazel."

She gulped nervously again and nodded thankfully, "As do you, Henri..." _Damn you, you're making me all flustered,_Theresa was lucky that she was sitting, because if she was standing her knees would have definitely had gone weak.

"That's very forward, don't you think?" Henri asked with slight mockery in his tone. Theresa's face fell and Henri laughed as she glared at him amused. He got up and straightened his clothes with his hands. Theresa looked up at him, only realizing that he had the slight stubble on his jawline and that he was built with broad shoulders. She hadn't realized that he was much taller than her, and now the height difference was more than noticeable even if she wasn't standing. His smirk fell soon and he asked her suddenly, "Theresa, that note you have gotten last week... was that from the Phantom?"

Theresa felt the heat from her cheeks quickly go away and knitted her eyebrows. She narrowed her eyebrows confused for a moment, but she was debating on more what to tell him rather than telling him the truth. Theresa sighed, this called heavily for a lie, "No," she stated after a long moment, "the note was old, some smart stage-hand decided to spook people in the theatre. When I brought it to the managers, they only confirmed it being old."

A look of relief seemed to have lifted off of Henri's shoulders and he nodded from the news, "Oh, good. So the Phantom of the Opera isn't back then?" Theresa smiled and shook her head no.

_'You're a better liar than I thought. You're full of surprises, signora.' _Theresa heard the voice again and she refrained from widening her eyes after hearing it. Henri looked at her carefully for a moment before nodding, "Great, then, I'll see you around. Eat, I don't want you to pass out on stage."

"I will, don't worry," she said, trying to get that voice out of her head at once. Theresa now had to focus on something other than the previous topic. But for some reason, Theresa didn't want him to leave her again. She quickly looked around herself, feeling something cold begin to crawl up her, raising the hairs on her back slightly. Henri didn't move to far away before she gripped his hand within hers. Henri stopped in his place and looked down at her small hand on top of his with his eyebrow slightly raised. "Why don't you stay? I'd rather not eat alone."

Henri's eyebrow fell and a crooked grin showed on his face, before he sat down again right next to her. "I will stay as long as you need me to, my lady." He bowed his head slightly toward her and raised his hand that still held her hand and kissed the top of it gently. His lips against her skin there made her calm down from when she heard... _him_ again. The cold that surrounded her before almost vanished, but she somehow still thought that she was being watched. She had a feeling though that her imagination was getting the better of her again, especially after that story about him.

"Thank you, see you are definitely a polite person," she said to him with a slight chuckle, bringing her lunch closer as she tentatively dipped her spoon inside of it.

Henri's grin seemed to grow in response, "Well, I never denied I was a polite person before either, princess." She shook her head, an eye roll taking its toll once again as she gripped the spoon and sipped gently from it. When did he get the idea that calling her princess was ever okay? But she didn't make to stop him from doing it either. "You only assumed that I'm not."

"Well, polite people don't steal bread from other people,"she retorted to him. "And who said that you can call me _princess_? Did you assume that you can do it?"

"Of course I did," Henri said to her. Theresa tilted her head toward him and bit the inside of her lip. "Why? Don't like it, princess?"

"Not at all," she answered him honestly as she continued to eat slowly in front of him. "It's very annoying, if I do say so myself."

"Annoying?" He questioned her, she could see in his blue eyes that he was feigning his insult. He placed a hand mockingly over his heart like she just bruised his ego. In reality, it made him only have a bigger head than what he had before. "Why, Theresa, you really know how to break a man's heart, you know that?"

"I highly doubt that that's the case with you right now, monsieur."

"Well, look at you, our Prima Donna is starting to get some backbone to her. I am impressed," Henri stated to her, looking her up and down at her almost admirably. He really did like that in a woman and she was the last person to make him even think that would have some sort of bite in her retorts and rebuttals to him. Actually, he believed that retorts and rebuttals were two things a person like her would never be able to do. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him and furrowed her brow at him for a moment. She didn't know what to think when his eyes scanned over her like they had done before.

Theresa went to speak up when Henri's name was heard behind her, "Henri," a girl exclaimed walking their way over to them. Theresa frowned at the sound of the voice, hearing the familiar tone. She couldn't match a name to it, nor a face, but she did hear that voice before. Henri looked up to see Mademoiselle Alaina Bellerose, one of the chorus members, coming to him. His grin grew wider and his blue eyes suddenly had a mischievous glint in them. Theresa turned her head to see the girl coming toward them.

"Signora," Alaina greeted her. Theresa faked a smile to her. A fake, sweet smile that she felt that she had given too many times already in Paris. The girl had a biting tone that seemed almost like it could kill her. What did she ever do to this girl to deserve that tone? She really would like to know, but she had a feeling that she would never figure it out. Well, actually, the girl in front of her was not even a girl at all. She was more of a woman with perfect blonde curls and fair pale skin that was far more paler than Theresa's. She was definitely beautiful and Theresa almost felt a tinge of jealousy inside her.

Henri's grin was far too evident for Theresa as well and how his eyes lit up for her when she came told her that he was fond of her. "Alaina." _Alaina, I'll have to remember that,_ she thought to herself. She didn't even stop to talk to them, she walked straight ahead and Theresa watched as Henri turned his head to actually watch her go to the table that was by them. How weird was it that this was the first time that Theresa had noticed her here? She waited until Henri turned his head to speak, but apparently he was being too preoccupied at the moment.

So Theresa heaved a large sigh before crossing her arms over her chest. She cleared her throat to have Henri turn his head back to her and he did so almost immediately like he only just realized that she was still there. "Who is that?" She asked him, her eyes looking above Henri's head to watch the blonde bob her head into the group over there.

"Her?" Henri questioned to make sure, clearing this throat awkwardly. Theresa nodded slowly to him, there wasn't another her that she was speaking about. "That's Mademoiselle Bellerose, she's a part of the chorus. You have never seen her before." Theresa shook her head no, if she had she wouldn't be asking. Once Alaina decided to look up though, straight at them, Theresa looked away almost immediately. But at the corner of her eye, she could see a look crossing Alaina's eyes that weren't good at all, and it bothered her a great deal, too.

* * *

_**Hope you enjoyed the update! Please review to tell me what you think :)**_


	5. Pandora's Box

_**Early update! :D I was supposed to update this on Sunday, but I have to go out of town that day so I probably wouldn't have the chance. Plus, I am off these next two day due to Hurricane Sandy, so I figured why not! Thank you for the continued support of the reviewers, alerters, and favoriters. It means so much to me that you guys are enjoying this story still! This chapter has nothing new to it, I couldn't see changing any of it. Hope you enjoy it!**_

* * *

_Chapter V: Pandora's Box_

Erik smiled to himself satisfied when he walked into his box from a passageway. Empty, just how it should be. He looked over from the corner to see the audience seated and the opera already beginning. He couldn't remember the last time that he had even seen an opera from here. It wasn't six years ago, the _Vicomte_ made sure to steal it away from him and Carlotta's voice made him skip out on some, not standing the fact that her voice would split his hearing. Erik watched as the beginning scene was only just starting as he took his seat in his dark corner. Little did he hear the soft opening of the door behind him.

The woman's voice, familiar and one that he had heard before many times, came to him, "So, the rumours are true." Erik didn't have to turn his head to know who it is.

He acknowledged her curtly, no matter how her tone sounded to him. "Madame."

"Why are you here, Erik?" Madame Giry asked, staying by the entrance of the box with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but her face didn't even show a bit of emotion that would hint of how she was feeling about his presence in front of her.

Erik shrugged and he answered thinking it to be the most obvious, "I'm here watching the opera." The sarcasm in his tone didn't even go by unnoticed to her. He hadn't changed one bit.

"Yes, I see that," she stated, "but what I don't understand is why you _are_ here watching the opera. They said that you were dead in the papers." Erik tilted his head up curiously and looked down at himself to see that his body was very much attached. He didn't understand the propaganda that would spur around in France. He knew that he had left his mask when he went into hiding, but when he thought it to be safe to come back into his lair they had left it.

He turned to take in the familiar image of Antoinette, though he could see that she had grown older in these six years, she was definitely a familiar image. It was highly doubted that his old friend would _be_ his friend after the fire all those years ago. "Well," he started, "I couldn't very much leave _my_ opera house to people who would believe words in a petty paper, now could I?" His mockery wasn't at all taken by her... ever. He knew that she was _far_ from happy in seeing him, or hearing him rather, he was in the dark part of the box, but his silhouette could be noticed by the observant.

_The new soprano saw my silhouette the week before very clearly, _he thought to himself. The woman was definitely curious and observant, he'd admit. That could get her in trouble.

"Erik," Erik could hear the concern in her voice as she spoke, he turned forward, watching the three witches on stage, though he would admit that he wasn't paying mind to it, "you shouldn't have come." He heard slight footsteps behind him and then someone sit next to him. She told him, "You and I both know that no one has forgotten about the fire six years ago, if you get caught..." she trailed off not stating what was obvious to the both of them.

Erik didn't show no worry. He was just as elusive as he once had been. He hid his smug tone from her, though it was hard, as he replied, "Then I mustn't get caught. Please, Antoinette," Giry cringed visibly hearing her name escape his lips, this was a mistake, she was beginning to think. She didn't want anything to do with _him_ this time as she was staying in the _Opera Populaire. _He continued to her, "it's almost as if you have no faith in me at all."

Giry remained silent and stood up from the seat, noticing that she should take her leave to help out backstage. "I must go, I only wanted to check if you were alive and if what the performers' mouths are spilling were rightfully being spilled." She straightened her black dress. Erik didn't pay mind to her as she was making her exit. Antoinette noticed that his mind was actually wandering somewhere else. His eyes locked onto something off stage... behind the curtain. She curiously followed his gaze and found her shoulders falling and her face softening.

"Stay away from her," she said quickly and out of her control. Erik turned his head at her abruptly. Madame Giry couldn't even hide what she had just said to him. Erik narrowed his eyes at her daringly, however he knew that he couldn't do anything to her even if he tried. She continued, barely phased, "She's too in her world, _and_ curious, she doesn't need for history to repeat itself."

Erik stood up, being bothered by what she said. What was she implying to him? That she was like his... Christine? Impossible! He said through his teeth, "She's not _her_."

"And nor would she ever be," the madame stated firmly and not phased to him. She hadn't changed at all, not even a small bit; had she? She was still stubborn and insufferable like he had remembered. The two stood like that for a while, the tension was only growing between them as the time continued to elapse. "You're looking at her almost as if you want her to be."

Ridiculous. The woman was being utterly ridiculous. He was not. But he looked away.

He was only intrigued if anything. He could care less for the soprano. How dare she make her as a comparison to his angel? The mademoiselle intrigued him, that was all. She wasn't even that talented as Christine was, and Christine could've been a lot more talented if she finished her lessons. Signora Baccelli, was not his Christine, that was for sure. Madame Giry could almost see how offended he was actually by that remark of hers, but she didn't comment.

She was waiting for some sort of response from him, knowing that she had taken a stab at the already wounded man. Antoinette could almost see his body shaking from anger, or was it her imagination?

Slowly, he looked back up at her. To her surprise, she saw a change in the Phantom. Erik seemed like he wanted to change from being a murderer. He admitted, trying to remain calm, "Caught my interest is all."

"Don't let your interest get the best of you then," Giry told him warningly. Erik narrowed his eyes, making them light green slits.

"I thought you were leaving, Madame. So, leave me _be_," he told her coldly, wanting her to leave and get out of his sight as soon as possible. It took him a moment to compose himself and Giry stood there while he had done so. He sat back down in his chair and rested his elbow on an arm rest, wishing there was a small glass of some sort of spirit in his hand, preferably whiskey. He was trying hard to not let his eyes go to the woman who was soon about to take the stage, but failing as he had done so. From the distance, he could see the nervous creases on her forehead, how her eyes were roaming the stage as if it was a monster ready to devour her as a meal.

Erik could see that she was scared and nervous. _She should be,_ he mused in his head. It was her first performance, she made changes with Reyer to the music three days before, and it was a full house... surprisingly, clearly aristocrats weren't the brightest despite their education. Theresa... yes, Theresa, (Erik was surprised that he had remembered her name) had every right to be nervous.

He hadn't noticed that Madame Giry was still behind him until he heard her again, "I have not forgotten what had happened six years ago..."

Erik took in a sharp breath, his lips going into an immediate frown as he had cast his eyes downward, "Nor should you."

"I should turn you in and tell them that you are indeed alive." Erik didn't answer her, neither objecting or accepting that. He knew that she was right, in fact, he had no reason to live once Christine was gone. The agony and pain would've been a lot less if he had been caught and put to death, for some reason, he couldn't recall... he hadn't been able to. "But I will not, monsieur," Erik looked slowly back up and turned his head to look at her behind his shoulder confused. "Do not let me think otherwise, Erik. My mind can easily change like the next."

Erik replied after swallowing what seemed to be a huge lump in his throat, "That's understandable. Now are you leaving?"

"Yes," she answered, by her tone it seemed that this time Erik was truly alone, "Goodbye, Erik." And with that, Madame Giry left his box and he waited until he heard a soft click of the door shutting. He turned to face the stage with a heavy sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, unsure of the woman's début to the audience. He hadn't listened to the rehearsals since she had persuaded Reyer to change the music, he was surprised with this girl... and like Erik had told Giry, she had sparked a certain interest in him on the rooftop.

When he opened his eyes once again, Theresa was making her appearance on stage with a messenger. Lady Macbeth, the sweet, awful liar was playing a manipulative, strong female. Erik couldn't wait to hear this.

However, when she opened her mouth her voice was different. She hit more low notes than high, and when she would hit high notes her voice would soar over the audience to overwhelm _them_. Erik's face slowly dropped as he continued to listen, genuinely he was astonished like the audience. He found himself leaning closer to the light to get a better look as he heard her voice. It no longer strained to be heard and he heard the difference that she was singing more from her diaphragm. She improved, _But, there is always a bit more room for it._ He thought.

Erik's shoulders fell and he saw the man on the roof who was the tenor. Macbeth.

His voice didn't compliment hers at all. The two didn't belong, he thought. They didn't even harmonize as they clashed, not even the tiniest bit. Theresa definitely showed the seductiveness and the manipulative aspects of the character, exploring each and every one of those aspects.

Their scene was ended with a long round of applause, however, and Erik sat back in his chair. Gulping, he muttered to himself, though it was more of a groan, as he rubbed his forehead, "I might actually give you that rose now, signora." He recalled on the rooftop that she had asked for one if she had done well.

Now, she might get what she would ask for. Though, the show wasn't over _yet_. She had time to prove him right and her wrong from the thoughts said the week before.

* * *

It was time. She heard the calls from her audience from backstage and she felt her chest swell up with happiness. She could cry. Theresa changed from her gown with all the fake stains of blood on it into a white gown, that seemed fit for a wedding in her eyes. Her hair was done differently and her make-up was done again as well. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she felt someone pat her shoulder in comfort. Theresa looked over at Madame Giry, feeling her chest become more tight by the growing second.

Madame Giry gave her a motherly look, one she hadn't seen in what seemed to be ages. "You have already done well, my dear."

"Thank you," Theresa thanked her politely with a bow of her head. She looked from behind the curtain to see that the audience was eagerly waiting for her to come out while Henri was starting to get, well, killed. She gulped, looking up into Box 5 as if she wanted to once again see the figure of the 'Phantom,' but she barely saw that box clearly. Theresa sighed and admitted, "That doesn't calm my nerves though."

Madame Giry chuckled softly and stated, "There is nothing to be worried about. You've already done well and you will only do better with what is coming up." Josef came off the stage with Henri and he gestured for Theresa to throw him the fake head, that didn't look anything like Henri at all. She done so quickly. "And," Madame Giry continued, "now is not the time for you to be worried. You are to be on stage soon, signora." Theresa took a breath, why did the final scene seem to her that it was about to end?

Theresa was counting the minutes, the seconds, she didn't realize that she was holding her breath.

The final note of the last aria was heard and she closed her eyes, wishing that Josef's 'huzzah!' soared for a long while before she was up next. But, before she knew it, she felt someone plant a small kiss on her cheek and a good luck being muttered to her by Henri as the stage was already being cleared. Theresa didn't realize how long ago Madame Giry actually left her side, the scene ended and when she came to her it was a little after it had started.

Theresa looked over to see the familiar backdrop of the set that was for her aria fall. Theresa's eyes locked onto it and she felt someone pushing her shoulder to have her move. With a deep breath, Theresa didn't bother to see who was it that had the audacity to push her onto the stage and she plastered a smile that went from ear-to-ear. She was introduced with applause and praises from the audience and she waved at them, unsure of what else to do...

Her mother would've waved, though she wasn't her any more, she thought that was at least what she _should _do.

She took center stage and held her chin up high, her smile was trying to turn into a smirk, but she didn't let it. She looked to Monsieur Reyer, and nodded as he held his baton over his stand. The music started and Theresa closed her eyes for a moment as she felt it move her smoothly and swiftly. Almost as if the music was serenading her. Then she opened her eyes, feeling her confidence that wasn't there before well up inside of her.

"_The raven's voice croaked the hour of his death.  
Yes, I was there, drunken with the power of my mind.  
My thoughts were of cruelty.  
My thoughts were of success to come.  
But now, I stand here, watching those thoughts fall into a pit of fire,  
In Hell."_

Theresa heard the changes now from the original aria. She saw some of the audience whispering to each other, unsure of how they were taking it. Theresa was actually pleased by that... _Good, they noticed them, _she thought to herself.

"_Because of me my hands won't go clean.  
The blood on them will never go away.  
Because of me a great king passed,  
Along with a friend and father,  
Along with a wife and son,  
For his security on the crown."_

Her voice became more and more harsh and low as she sang each of the previous lines. The music grew louder as she felt its climax unfold. Her sweet smile fell, and she tried not to let the emotion of the aria overwhelm her. She found that that was her problem last time and it was very difficult to fix her control on her voice.

"_They say there is a light at the end of the tunnel,  
How dark my tunnel is, indeed.  
__And now... the light is closing in on me!  
The dagger of which my Macbeth hath saw,  
Is right there... ready for my grasp.  
The hilt, I swear, is gleaming toward me,  
And as I reach to grab it, I can!"_

The music swayed from being powerful to weak, the woodwinds soft tones and the strings' power clashed together, and soon it actually felt like a war. Theresa was glad, that was how it was supposed to sound for her character. When she continued, she felt admirable looks upon her, sending her into her glory. Too bad, the song wasn't gleeful or triumphant, she couldn't smile fully like she wanted to show that she was actually basking in those looks now.

"_No cheaters never lose,  
If they win, they win to lose.  
All cowards have to end at some point,  
And if that's true, soon my Macbeth will join me.  
Because of me, people died,  
For our selfish needs!  
And the only way for my hands to be clean,  
Is if the blood flows out of me."_

The audience seemed stunned for a moment, unmoving. Theresa tried not to gulp as she heard the music go softer and slower, an _Andante _tempo with a _piano _tone.

"_Because of me, I'm now all alone,  
In this cold, dark world.  
I leave behind all my possessions,  
My fake achievements,  
As the strained thought of death will emerge.  
And as that thought will emerge..."_

The thought of death emerged, actually in her mind, it was strange how she could just relate to her. She didn't understand what it was that they had that she could relate with. She was such a depressing character to portray. The music stopped suddenly, like it was supposed to in the _changes. _She sang with her voice alone, no music, until the final line and note.

"_I just cannot take,"_

She paused for a moment, leaving everyone hanging, she looked to Reyer who cued her to make her end, going from high to low.

"_Any more!"_

Her note wasn't held as long as it was held before, but immediately she had gotten a standing ovation from her audience. Theresa almost felt her world stop as she watched each and every person in the audience actually rise up, yelling, "Bravo!","Magnificent!", etc. Theresa couldn't hide what she was thinking now and she felt a tear caress her cheek as she bowed her head and curtsied as flowers like roses and carnations were thrown at her feet. Theresa did the same thing until she was gestured by a stage hand to take a step back to close the curtain. The exhilarating feeling lasted for a while.

* * *

"Padre," she mumbled under her breath as she knelt by her bed. She was still in costume, not really wanting to change. Madame Giry ushered her right to her room, on the way people congratulated her, there was almost a mob by her door! Theresa stayed in here when she left, she didn't know when it was safe to come out. Instead of going to the chapel to pray like she usually would, she prayed by her bedside. Theresa sighed, unsure if he could hear her from heaven, she always doubted it.

"Grazie per la benedizione me stasera. L'ho fatto per voi stasera, in tuo onore, tu e mamma. Lei avrebbe dovuto essere lì, vorrei che tu fossi lì, avresti amato. Mi sentivo come se ci appartenesse, avevi ragione, io ho il dono della musica, essendo nato da una cantante e pianista ... deve essere vero. Mi manchi, ci si sente come te sono morti ieri, ed è stato tredici anni fa in questo giorno. Lasciate che il vostro angelo continuano a guidare a me, padre, per fare regali sempre più di musica. Amen."

Theresa slowly opened her eyes, to be reminded that her room was adorned with flowers and bouquets. She sighed, the smile from the stage still hadn't gone away. Theresa stood up, brushing her costume off of anything dirty. Before she could go behind the screen to change, she caught something white with a stem on her pillow. On the stem was a long, black ribbon with a note tied at the knot. Her smile fell and her lips parted. Theresa made her way slowly to the white rose, tilting her head curiously. She hadn't noticed it when she had walked in there nor when she actually knelt down by her bed.

It was... intriguingly strange that she hadn't noticed it at all.

Theresa carefully took the rose by its stem in her hand and touched the ribbon sceptically. It was fine, silky between her fingers. She brought the rose to her nose instinctively to smell the sweet scent. The note rubbed against her knuckle, reminding her to read that to see who had brought this for her.

Slowly, she took the note, dropping the rose onto her bed and opened it. She read it out loud, her voice going from calm to an astonished tone, "'Signora Baccelli, I'm afraid to say that I owe you this...'" _The Phantom of the Opera,_ her mind immediately thought before even looking at who signed off on it. Theresa closed her eyes for a moment before reading it, "'O.G.'"

She gulped and slowly Theresa tried to shake off her shock. Her eyes scanned the room as she dropped the note, picking the rose back up in her hand. They soon landed on the previously opened mirror. Theresa looked around her room before she made her way over. It was closed. For days, the draft of whatever was behind there could be felt by her since she had opened it a crack, no one noticed that it was opened but her. But now... it was closed. She eyed where the gap used to be curiously and narrowed her eyes as her hand involuntarily moved toward the edge of the mirror to open it once again.

The door behind her opened and Theresa turned around startled to see that it was only Henri with a bouquet in his hand.

"I knew I would find the star of the night in here while the House is celebrating," he mused with an elated smile. Theresa tried to muster one. Her thoughts however were still going back to the mirror and the rose. She didn't realize that she was hiding the rose behind her back so _he_ wouldn't see. "Have you always been a little... what's the word?" He paused, not being able to think of it. She saw how he was swaying a bit as he stood there in front of her. "Not a celebratory person?" _Those were several words,_ she thought.

She nodded, unsure if she wanted to speak. She didn't want to lie, her voice would tremble and her palms would get clammy. Actually, her palms were already getting clammy just by her thinking about the mirror.

"Well doesn't that dampen my mood quite a bit." He told her, holding out the bouquet of flowers to her. Theresa didn't feel the same way she had when she had seen the rose, she would admit. "These are for you, hope you like them." Theresa shyly took them with her free hand, staying put where she was. He needed to leave, she had to get him to leave somehow.

She gulped, like the rose, she held them close to smell the scent. Not as sweet. Theresa mumbled to him, "Thank you, Henri. You really didn't have to get these for me. We are co-workers after all."

"Yes, but they fit you and this is a special time to give you them." For a moment they stood there in an uncomfortable silence, Theresa was only going to ways to get him _out._ Henri looked at her carefully. He broke the silence, "What's behind your back there, Theresa?"

Her thoughts were broken and she went back to reality, "Hmm?"

"Your back," he stated curiously, his smile falling. "What's behind there?"

Theresa parted her mouth innocently and took the rose out from her back. She gestured to it, thinking of a lie quickly. "Oh, this?" Henri nodded like it was obvious; it was the elephant in the small room. She swallowed a lump in her throat, a nervous lump, before stating quickly, "Just a rose. Don't know who it is from. Came in here and here it was on my bed like it was waiting for me." She thought she was lying, but really she was stating the truth. She shrugged, "Must be a secret admirer. I don't know. You French are romantic sometimes..." _What in the hell are you saying, Theresa?_ Her mind scowled. Theresa mentally slapped herself in the forehead for sounding so stupid.

Henri seemed a bit taken back by that. Why did he seem like that? Theresa bit down her bottom lip as he brought a smile back on his lips that she knew didn't belong there. It was a fake smile that a horrible actor would wear to hide his true face. He stated to her, "Well, let's hope this _admirer_ wouldn't get any ideas. You're too good for that secretive stuff, my lady." He pinched her cheek, only to have her playfully slap it away. The man was still an arrogant one when it came to it. He muttered to her under his breath, but it was barely audible, "Got some competition on my hands."

"Excuse me?" Theresa asked curiously. She actually wasn't sure if she heard that correctly.

Henri shook his head, excusing it, "Nothing, my dear, nothing for your pretty face to think about."

"Oh."

"I just came in here to congratulate you on your début, you sang like a dark angel, my favourite kind," he winked as he began to slowly back away. Theresa raised her eyebrow at her forward friend (or should she even call him that now?). "Oh, and I decided for a date for dinner."

Theresa furrowed her eyebrows at him and gulped, _Oh, that promise... I have forgotten about that,_ she thought to herself. "Dinner? When?"

He shrugged with a smug look in his eyes, "For me to know and for you to find out." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, but she didn't hide the smirk that was tugging on her lips. "But the time span is between tomorrow and the fourth day after, at seven. So, you should dress your best these next four days at seven to be ready because we would leave at the dot, my lady." _Lovely,_ she thought rather sarcastically.

"That's grand," she didn't bother hiding the sarcasm in her tone as she spoke. There wasn't a need to, he knew—like she did—that she wasn't very excited with this _surprise; _she didn't like surprises and it was like he knew that not telling her the plans for dinner would drive her insane. _Get him out of here! _Her mind shouted and she was just reminded of how before she was making him leave... Theresa thought something up quickly, but he interrupted her.

"I hear your enthusiasm all over." He told her equally sarcastic with a short chuckle.

Theresa told him honestly and shortly, "I don't like surprises."

"I do, especially when they're not for me." Theresa could feel her irritation grow, and her thoughts getting more and more impatient. They just wanted to see what was behind the mirror! She had to get him out of there, calm her curious thoughts. She was a Pandora, she would admit, and that mirror was her box to open.

"Good for you then," Theresa hid her cold tone very well, but she didn't hide the glare she had for him. "But, as you can see, monsieur," she walked toward him putting the bouquet of flowers on a nearby table, with the rose still in her hand tightly, before gently pushing him to the door, "I am tired and I am about to retire to bed." _Lying to him is now such a breeze,_ she thought to herself, it was unbelievable that she had kept her tone so even.

"So if you may please leave me, it would be absolutely wonderful." She reached around him to open the door for him to leave, only to have him shut it.

"So soon? You only just got in and the night is still young, mademoiselle." Theresa scrunched her nose, now being closed to him she could smell a faint amount of whiskey in his breath. _The night is still young and already you've been drinking, Henri,_ she mentally shook her head, disgusted for the moment. Though, she was disgusted, she smiled a fake smile to him.

"Yes, I am exhausted, Henri. It tends to happen at night, and for me it happens when it is young." She stated to him, opening the door again, this time he shut it when he invaded her room. "If I were you," she started, secretly locking the door on the inside. Over her she heard faint laughs leaving the building, the celebration for the successful performance must have been quick. "I would get myself to bed also, we have another performance tomorrow, remember?" She thanked the heavens that the soft click the lock made was unheard by him.

Before he could respond to that, she waved a small goodbye with her rose and closed the door loudly, without meaning to, locking the door even more by twisting the lock above it. She quickly placed the rose on a table to go to the mirror again. She examined, unsure of what else to do.

Theresa skimmed her hand on the gold frame of the mirror, tracing every inch of its decoration.

When she let her hand touch the border line that separated the frame and and the actual mirror, she searched for some kind of breeze that she could feel... maybe, there was a way to open it still. It took her a while to find it, but when she felt a sudden chill that went from her fingertips to her spine, she used her nails to help her as she pried it open. It was easier to move than she thought and before she knew it, she was faced with a dark passageway.

Theresa gulped and looked down at her costume as she let the breeze swallow her in slowly. She didn't realize she was moving until she heard something scampering about her feet and squealing. Theresa kept herself from yelping as she jumped back, hearing the distinct sounds of mice. The dark was straining her eyes, making her unable to see.

She looked behind her shoulder, she didn't go too far. Slowly and regretfully, she went back to her room to get a more _suitable_ outfit to wear. Theresa took out her frock, unsure of what else and stepped out of her heels.

She went behind the dressing screen, carefully taking off her costume only to be left in her undergarments. She quickly covered herself with the old frock, she didn't know where she had gotten it, it was rather old, but it happened to fit her like a glove. Theresa stepped out from behind the screen and had put on her slippers. She looked to the opened mirror, it was rather dark in there.

She made her way to a candle, she didn't even think that the candle would guide her right along the path. "Better than nothing," she muttered under her breath.

Theresa made her way, but then she stopped a thrill of fear suddenly attacked her. She closed her eyes and told herself, "Now or never." And with that, Theresa made her way, taking a careful step after another, her candle being her only light.

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_**Yup, just to be me, I did leave a small cliffhanger for you all ;). Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And I hope you have had a good Halloween as well! And to those who have also been in Hurricane Sandy, I hope you and your families are okay and safe. My prayers go out to you.**_

_**If you do like Harry Potter, I just posted a new Harry Potter story. Please check it out and let me know what you think! :) And also, if you haven't yet, like me on Facebook for sneak peeks, character bios, and story info. :)**_

_**See you next update! **_

_**Love,  
Tiana xoxo **_

_**The prayer to her father translated!:**_

Thank you for blessing me tonight. I did it for you tonight in your honor, you and Mom. She should have been here, I wish you were there, you would have loved it. I felt like I belonged there, you were right, I have the gift of music, having been born of a singer and pianist... it must be true. I miss you, I feel like you died yesterday, and it was thirteen years ago on this day. Let your little angel continue to guide me, Father, to give me more and more gifts of music. Amen.


	6. The Heart of the Labyrinth

_**Hey! I'm so happy I finally found time today to post this! I've been away all day and I thought that I had to push it off until tomorrow, but now I can. Thank you for all the reviews and alerts and favorites from last chapter, it all means a lot to me. I have no energy to write a large author's note, so I'll leave you to read right now. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!**_

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_Chapter VI: The Heart of the Labyrinth_

She was only in the tunnel for a few moments and the path was already never-ending. The glow from the candle was her only light and it strained her eyes as she tried to look beyond of what it lit. Theresa looked around, using a hand to guide her through the path, though the cold, stone walls almost made her turn around and walk back. It gave her an eerie feeling in her stomach as she turned the corner, she even felt the coldness that skimmed her feet under the soles of her slippers.

She went to walk further, but felt her foot drop as there was no floor. She tripped forward over a few steps that she hadn't seen and stumbled back up when she found herself face down.

Theresa groaned, "Ow," this was a bad idea, she needed more light to see where she was going. She sat up and felt her chest ache as she had done so. Theresa tried her best to keep her head up as she tried to stand on her two feet, but her body protested against it. She shook her head, mumbling, "Non si torna indietro ora, farò questo, anche se muoio facendo." And with that, she got up, rubbing her forehead and then brushing off the dirt on her frock. She rolled back her shoulders and craned her neck until she had heard a slight crack.

She winced, she hated the sound of bones cracking.

Theresa looked to her side, moving the candle onto the wall to see a torch. This would do better, by far. She was actually surprised the candle light didn't even go out yet. When she took the torch down from the wall, she made sure that there was slightly some alcohol on the wick before exchanging the light from the candle to the torch. It took a bit of time and when it did happen, she blew out the smaller light as she was introduced with a bigger one.

She sighed happily, "Much better."

Theresa's eyes adjusted slowly to a better light and she moved the torch a bit forward, looking down to see that there were indeed a lot of steps to go down. She sighed, she was definitely a naïve and stupid girl for even thinking that this was going to be easy. Her hand still skimmed the wall as she carefully walked down each step one by one.

One looked more strange than it should look. She looked up, she still had a lot left. The step that she was about to go on didn't seem right, she took the candle in her hand and cautiously dropped it in the middle. In a flash, the candle disappeared under the floor as it gave out. Her eyes widened and she waited until she heard the distinct sound of a splash. She gulped, holding her breath as she watched the flooring of the step go back to normal.

She closed her eyes for a moment, this wasn't her best idea. Theresa quickly turned her head to see if it was too late to turn back around and run to her room where she belonged.

_No!_ Her mind yelled, _Don't look backward, you can do this! _Theresa sighed and she turned forward, looking down at the step with fear. _I should skip that one, _she thought and she did. Theresa jumped over from the step to the one after the next, with less grace than a jumping ballerina would have.

Her balance struggled as she landed and she almost tripped again along with her torch. She held the wall to help her stand straight up, that was a trap on the step before, wasn't it? She thanked heaven that she didn't get caught in it then. Theresa looked down at the other steps and groaned, there had to be a way to cut through it all. But, she held onto her tongue and tried not to back away from this at all.

She slowly continued on, being more and more cautious than she was before. _Thank God for the light_, she thought to herself.

"There should at least be some light on the way, it's far too dark in here to wander alone." And yet, she was wandering alone. Theresa could admit that since she had left Italy her judgement had lessened greatly. Maybe because of her new-found freedom? She didn't know. But it was most likely it. The steps didn't become as steep as she continued down them, which to her meant that they should be ending soon enough. Theresa looked around, stepping off the final step. Now it just seemed like a hill that was made from cobble stones. Almost like a downward street in a way.

She sighed, it was better than being on steps that she could trip and fall on... with traps somewhere along them. She took slow steps along it, looking back and forth between the walls like she was waiting for them to close in on _her._ She was relieved that they haven't.

Then she heard it.

Not the voice this time, but dim sounds of sorrowful music. Theresa stopped in her place and tried to lean in closer to see if she could hear it. Was that a violin? Why couldn't she tell? It was some sort of string. Though, sorrowful, it was sweet and gentle to her ear.

Theresa found herself drawn to it and when she moved forward, she found that she no longer needed the torch in her hand. There were lit candles already along a... lake. The misty lights glowed the way to the sorrowful, yet beautiful sound of the violin. Theresa felt herself in a hypnotic trance by it and she didn't realize that she was dipping the lit part of the torch into the lake to put it out. Her mind told her that she should be there now, but her body brutally fought against it. She felt herself slowly drop the wooden torch onto the ground with a loud clatter as she stepped in.

She didn't hear either the loud torch falling and the loud splash she made when she entered the lake.

The water was freezing! Theresa tried her best to pay no mind to it and she looked around to see that the walls around the lake were absolutely beautiful. It refreshed her to see that there was no matters of cobwebs, mice, and other things that could distract her. Her mind was whirling and she made sure that she trudged this lake in silence and awe. Theresa held onto the wall, the water was about up to the middle of her thigh.

Theresa was so in her head that she didn't know that the music even stopped for a second, it was almost as if someone heard her coming. Her mind didn't take it in and when she weaved a corner, her eyes widened as she felt her air supply cut off as she was pushed against the wall.

Theresa didn't even have time to think or pay attention. She was now looking at a tall man who was looking at her with pure hatred and wearing a mask that covered half of his face, it was white. Theresa didn't realize how familiar he was supposed to look to her and her eyes began to water as she felt her air supply leave. She saw though a menacing fire engulf in his eyes, which Theresa found quite terrifying. "What are you doing here?" He growled, the voice and tone were so familiar and she almost winced when she actually heard it.

"I-," she choked out. She couldn't continue, or talk in a full sentence. She tried though, "The... mirror."

"The mirror?" The man furrowed his eyebrow at her, but didn't loosen his grip on her neck. "How do you know about the mirror?"

Theresa tried to answer, she craned her neck so that her head was hitting the wall more, but it only became more difficult. She was eye-level with him. He had beautiful eyes. Green, her father's were green. She gulped, the fear slowly escaped her as she stared into them. The man loosened the grip around her neck only a bit. Theresa could answer now, and she did so tremblingly, "I-It was open... now it was closed. I..." she trailed off, unsure of how to make it look like she wasn't prying... even though she clearly was

"Pried." He stated knowingly, as if he was reading her thoughts. Theresa only stood there under his grip against the wall, now somewhat able to breathe again. She was silent. "Your name." He didn't ask, he ordered.

Theresa remained silent, but that was something that she shouldn't have done. She felt herself being pushed against the wall harder, his weight on hers so that she couldn't move. Theresa suddenly realized who this man was... _the Phantom of the Opera._ He knew her name, didn't he? This man had to be him, he just had to be. Why was he pretending to not know her name? He demanded again, loudly, his voice bouncing in between the walls of the cave, "Mademoiselle, your name!"

"You know it already!" She slurred in one breath harshly and as loudly as she could. She tried to grab his hand to pull it off of her throat, but she failed. Theresa gritted her teeth. The man eyed her carefully for a moment, his eyes narrowed as they looked her up and down with the same menacing look. Theresa just stayed there unmoving. The man acted like he had never seen her before. His face actually softened as he continued to look at her. Theresa stayed like that for a while, her chest heaving up and down quickly along with her heart beat pounding like a drum.

The fear was no longer there when she continued looking at him.

He told her more calmly, "Then confirm it." It was an order, but since it sounded more calm she could hear his tenor-like voice. It was like a piece of velvet to her ears as it passed through and it sent her mind whirling. She opened her mouth, but no words had come out. She didn't know _what_ to say, she didn't even know what to think. Her mouth moved, but she found herself speechless. _Talk! Why aren't you talking? _

Theresa didn't know why and the voice in her head apparently didn't know why either. She was starting to feel dizzy, her knees were becoming weak.

The man looked at her carefully, his brow furrowed toward her with the creases of his forehead frowning. He let go of her throat and Theresa gained her breath. She breathed in loudly, taking in all the air that was around. She closed her eyes for a moment, muttering to him, "Thank you, monsieur."

He told her, ignoring the thank you, "Stop making me think that you're deaf. Confirm it, if you think I know it."

Theresa slowly looked up, touching her throat where he had gripped it before. It was almost as if she had felt indents from where he had grabbed her with his leather glove. It wasn't from the lack of air that she couldn't speak to him, it was mostly because she was in shock. She gulped, and then came out with her assumption, but she didn't realize how weary her voice sounded, and drowsy. "But, Monsieur O.G.," the Phantom's green eyes seemed to spark, "you should... know...," she trailed off, blinking repeatedly as her vision began to blur, "it..." _Stop being foolish and speak,_ she told herself.

Her legs were still weak and then she quickly stated before she fainted in the water and having everything go black around, "Already."

"Theresa!" Erik caught her quickly before she actually hit the water. The cloth of her dress and a little bit of her brown hair were the only parts of her actually getting wet. He stared down at her in disbelief and slowly he moved his hands in a way to bring her into his arms. She only got more wet in the process, but she didn't fall in completely. He rose up, carrying her limp body, and slowly he walked back to his lair to lay her down.

Occasionally he would steal a glance down at her and he shook his head each time in between. He shouldn't have been surprised. After observing her for a number of days, maybe weeks, he noticed that she wasn't one who would see something strange without it haunting her.

No, she was curious... observant. She had a strong will and a strong head. She could be stubborn, he happened to see both her dark and gentle side. The dark side wasn't expected when he had heard her that time on top of the roof. She was just clever and had some wit in her.

He stepped out of the water and silently walked past all of his possessions and to the room with the black swan bed. Theresa shivered against him and snuggled more into his chest as he placed her onto the red satin sheets. It seemed a while before Erik felt bad that she had to lay there in wet clothing, so he sat her up and reluctantly removed the frock she had on. She was now left in nothing but her chemise. Being a gentleman, he tried not to look at that as he laid her back down. Her eyes remained closed like she was sleeping peacefully.

He went over to her feet and then took off her soaked slippers. Maybe now she wouldn't be _as_ cold as she was before. Erik looked back up at Theresa's delicate face. He stared at it, slowly moving toward her. She looked very much at peace at that moment. He took a small curl in his hand and moved it behind her ear to get a look. She was beautiful, he would admit, no wonder the lead tenor found himself attracted to her. He didn't realize that his hand touched the side of her cheek, feeling her high cheekbones against his glove.

Her skin wasn't porcelain, no, it had more colour. But it seemed to him that the people in charge of make-up tried to make her skin like ivory. He would have to have a word or two with the managers to not cover her with so much, she didn't seem natural with the work that they had done to make her look lighter. His hand travelled down to where her lips were. They were only pursed into a thin line.

Something stirred in Erik that he didn't know he could feel, compassion... almost. He suddenly felt guilty gripping her throat like he had done before and pushed her against the wall. He removed his hand from her face and went to walk away, but something red that was a little over her chest caught his eye. Erik looked over to see that there was a rather large spot on her chest that was red and looked like it was going to bruise.

He looked down her body to see the bottom of her legs, actually more by her ankles, were scratched up.

He sighed, "What did you get yourself into, mademoiselle?" Erik looked back at her face, as if he was waiting for an answer from her unconscious body. He was going to wait, he decided, she might have gotten hurt on the way down here. He knew the feeling of being woken up while being tended. He still remembered the sting of his wounds from being whipped when he was tended by the younger Antoinette, his back burned in reminder of that.

Erik took a step back, holding the rope that would allow the black curtain to fall around her. He stood there for a moment, before actually pulling down on it so that she was surrounded by it. She might have seemed peaceful to him, but how little did he know that her mind was far from ease.

_It was night. Theresa found herself walking down a familiar road that she hadn't walked down since she was ten. It had cobble stones aligned in it as she walked quietly and she saw the familiar gondolas slowly moving in the canals. This was Venice, the town she was born in. Theresa smiled softly knowing the memories that were so sweet, so pure that had came from here. However, there were memories that were so bad that she never touched upon again. She stopped in her place, recognizing the familiar part with the carts relished with fruit that some found forbidden and some delicious. _

_The stars that were in the sky circled around the building she used to call home. Theresa shifted her body so that she could look upon it, with her ears perking at the sounds of her mother's sobs inside. Her mouth parted as she walked over to the window with its curtains wide open. She faced the familiar ivory white living room. Theresa remembered it all, the cold, tan tiled floor, the brown couches with the awful floral pattern, and the clearest thing of all... the grand piano that was slightly out of tuned. Her father was too sick to tune it and her mother never gotten to getting someone to fix it. _

_Her father came home from the infirmary, with the suggestion of wanting to die at home with his family. Theresa remembered this day, this night. She was faced with her younger self's back to her, ten, she was ten. She was sitting on top of the piano's bench, playing a song that sounded sharp because of it. Her head was hanging low as she only played with her right hand, not her left. Theresa didn't learn to play with chords until _after _her father had passed. It was strange, her mother taught her to play with the chords, not standing how she would only play the melody and not the harmony, not the pianist, who was her father._

_Theresa's shoulders slumped as she watched herself, the frown on her face appeared and she closed her eyes. In a few moments, __her mother would come in and tell her,_ _'La mia bella figlia, è il momento. Dite la vostra addio, chiede per voi.' It meant, my beautiful daughter, it's time. Say goodbye to him, he asks for you. She couldn't bare to look at her mother's tear strained face, __though later on in life she was a witch to her in all ways possible, she wasn't during this time. It broke her in half and she was such a strong woman, a strong willed woman by far._

_When she opened her eyes, it was too early. She saw her mother walk into the living room with her face all red and her eyes puffy. It was almost like Theresa was reliving it all and she was seeing it through her younger eyes. Angelina placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder as she left the bench and led her to the door. Theresa walked down the narrow hallway, it stretched further than it actually was. She stopped at the room closing her eyes, debating if she should go in. _

"_Theresa," he knew she was out there and his frail voice was calling her. She sighed. Theresa made her decision to come in and she tried to not look at the bed though she was walking toward it. The image of her dying father was something that she would rather _not _see. Theresa stood there inches away from her father, not looking at him. "Theresa, my love, look at me," her eyes slowly moved onto him, her body was trembling, seeing his delicate hand extended toward her._

_Theresa's eyes gotten watery, but she didn't cry as she placed hers over it. He pulled weakly on her hand and she moved toward him, kneeling next to him. She gulped, "Father..." _

"_Shh," he hushed her before she could say anything more. "My love, be quiet, I want to talk to you," she nodded her head, and he had let go of her hand, so that he could stroke her cheek. His green eyes were losing the color that was left in them and the tan skin, was now turning cold and pale. "Remember... that opera we saw mama in recently?" She nodded slowly, but she didn't show the same smile on her face that she had while watching it. "When you think of me, I want you to remember times we shared... like that time."_

"_Times we shared?" She repeated, "No," she shook her head no in disbelief to see her father's face falling, "no, we still have time left, right? We can share more!"_

"_Hush," his fragile thumb against her skin felt like it could break, Theresa felt the bone in it. "You and I both know that we cannot, darling. Now, I want you to listen to me..." he coughed, drawing his hand back to cover it and not show the blood that was coming out of his mouth to her. Theresa caught a glimpse of it and cringed, about to turn away from it, but her father pointed to the near handkerchief. She gave it to him and noticed the slight blood that already stained it. _

_She hid her grimace as best as she can, but her father noticed it anyway. Davide_ _reluctantly took the handkerchief and wiped his mouth and hand from the specks of blood that would be visible. She gulped as he gripped her hand, squeezing it more tightly. He continued to her, "Your mother and I both love you very much. I don't want this to be the final image of me that you'll have." Theresa felt a large lump in her throat, she wanted to cry so badly, but the tears didn't come down so easily. Why didn't they come down?_

"_Continue with the piano, you grow everyday, learn your chords," Theresa chuckled sadly, causing her father to laugh, it was a raspy kind of laugh and sent her chills up her spine. "I'm sure while I'm gone your mother will take it within herself to teach you to sing, but I... know... you already—."_

"_Father," Theresa stopped him, hearing the weakness in his voice as he tried to continue, "I... understand."_

"_I am... g-glad... to hear that, my darling." Theresa's breath caught in her throat and she felt herself almost letting her tears escape her eyes. She tried not letting them. "You have a gift, and I don't want you wasting it." Theresa nodded, understanding. His green eyes flickered to her hazel eyes, "You are young... too young to see me like this, I am sorry... but I had to say it to you. Your mother didn't want you... to."_

_She could see her mother wanting her not to. _

"_I love you," that was all she said. "And... I'm going to miss you, papa." _

_He smiled at his daughter and had let go of her hand once more to stroke her cheek again. "As do I," he started, the pad of his thumb actually felt warmer than it was before, like the next four words weren't going to be his last. Theresa sat there in silence as she watched her father die before his very eyes, "And I... a-always... will." With that, his hand fell limply off her cheek and he set his head down on the pillow. His lids closed over his green eyes, Theresa didn't have enough time to catch them and mesmerize them before he would die. _

_Theresa stared down at his hand that was hanging off the bed and the skin was completely white. She slowly stood up, and she found herself frozen, unable to move. Outside of the house, Theresa's eyes remained closed, feeling herself back in her body, but unfortunately she was still living it. She slowly opened her eyes to see her ten year old self, standing there frozen. Her mother stood there, standing there over her worried. The two were silent for a while, the tension that lasted until she was twenty-two started at that moment._

_Her mother was about to say, 'Allora? Perché lì, Theresa?' She remembered the snap her mother used for it, it meant, 'Well? Why are standing there?' Her brown eyes that looked like chocolate at times flickered with a sad anger. The young version of Theresa looked up at her in shock, she was still watering at her eyes, not releasing them at all. Theresa, outside, felt the same lump in her throat that was there begging her to. _

_She opened her mouth and said along with herself inside, "Lui è andato."_ _(He is gone.) Her mother gasped with horror and quickly walked past, pushing her shoulder a bit to move her out of the way. Theresa stood there and watched herself staring down at the floor, unsure how to comprehend it all. She wasn't even crying yet, why wasn't she even crying? Theresa turned away and leaned against the window, not being able to be bare with seeing her take her place on the bench where she first was and already start what her father had told her._

_Theresa covered her ears, hearing the sad melody go into her ears louder than it ever had before. She inhaled sharply, the loud music came to her even more through her covered ears. She slid down the window until she was sitting onto the ground. She seethed like the music was actually causing harm to her, it wouldn't stopped. Not even a little bit did it stop. She asked it softly, "Stop it, please." _

_Her father's green eyes then came to her, she closed her eyes, for once she didn't want to see them. Maybe she did memorize his dying eyes, they were showing themselves now to her. The music only became louder and this time maybe, it sounded a little differently, more... cryptic and dark. The chords were there, too, she wasn't playing this inside. She knew that she wasn't playing this inside. She didn't dare to turn around to check what she was doing, but she clamped her ears tightly with her hands. _

"_Stop," she begged. She even closed her eyes tighter to not let her father's eyes get to her. She now shouted, "Stop!"_

Theresa sat up, breathing sharply. She felt a cold sweat collect on her brow and her chest was heaving up and down as she breathed in rapidly. She gulped down feeling something wet fall against her cheeks. She wiped the tears away from her face and looked down at her hand. That was when she realized that she wasn't in her bed, or her room. Her eyes focused on the red satin sheets that she was on and startled, she scanned around her to see a black curtain around her. She then looked down at herself to see that she was in nothing but her chemise.

Not only was her heart pounding, but her head was now doing the same. When she realized that there was a rope a little behind the curtain, she moved it and quietly pulled down the rope to see the black curtain rise up. She moved her feet over the bed and she looked over to see the intricate design of it. She bit her bottom lip when she realized it was shaped as a swan. A black swan. She smiled softly at it and then looked over to see her shoes and her frock folded on a nearby chair. What had happened and how did she get here?

She frowned, she hadn't any idea on how and why. "I see you're up." She snapped her head up to see a man by the entrance, he was carrying a few things that looked like they were from an infirmary. Theresa only stayed there silent as she watched him move, so gracefully, so flawlessly across the room that she was in. She had forgotten to continue with her hoarse breathing and then continued on with it to not be out of breath.

Theresa didn't do anything as he dabbed the cotton ball with alcohol. He knelt down before her and took her leg in his grasp, but she took it away. He only looked up at her and stated, "You're hurt."

She was? Theresa looked down at her legs to see that her ankles were scratched up. She nodded, "I know." She regained some of the memory of how she might have gotten that. She told him quietly, almost as a mutter, "I tripped down stairs before. Steep ones."

"So let me tend them," he insisted, going for her other leg, but she snatched that away. He looked back up at her annoyed, he was clearly irritated already by her reluctance. "Mademoiselle," he started, through his teeth, "surely you don't want these wounds to be infected." Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, he tried to kill her before! That was the Phantom! He pushed her against the wall, choking her to death. She almost died and he expected her to trust him enough to tend to her. He was mad. "Are you afraid?"

She shook her head, "It's not the fear that is the reason."

"Then what is?"

"The fact that you almost killed me before makes someone like me not trust you, Monsieur Phantom." He moved his eyes downward so that they were looking at the ground. Theresa sat there, unmoving. She watched him carefully, seeing genuine guilt on his face. She pursed her lips into a fine line.

The Phantom sighed, he still held his hand out that was covered with a leather glove. He stated to her, "I promise, that I wouldn't hurt you, Signora Baccelli." For some reason, she actually gave him back her leg slowly and placed it over his leather glove. He warned her, "This might sting a little." Theresa nodded, she knew that already. She was tended on before she didn't need this man to—. She hissed, interrupting her thoughts as she felt him rub the alcohol. The Phantom didn't even look up, "Am I hurting you?"

Even though he was asking, he was still continuing. She denied the sting and shook her head no, "But it stings more than a little bit."

"Well, I would apologize for that, but I can't control it." Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, hearing the sarcasm in his voice. She didn't comment on it. When he was done, the Phantom gestured for her other leg, but she didn't give it to him. "Signora Baccelli, you are going to let me do one but not the other?"

Theresa sighed and slowly gave it to him, muttering, "Don't call me Signora Baccelli, I have a name."

"And why should I not call you formally, Theresa?" He asked calmly, tending to the bottom of her leg. _So you do know my name, why ask it before? _She thought. Theresa didn't think that he had heard that. "Hmm?"

She stated, timidly, "It sounds like you are addressing my mother."

"Yes, and you don't want to be like _her, _am I right?" Theresa snatched her leg out of his gloved hand only to feel the scratches burn in protest. He didn't rub the alcohol in yet completely. The Phantom looked at her with his eyes mixed with both annoyance and amusement.

"So you did hear it all that night on the roof, didn't you?" She asked, ignoring the pain of her leg burning. He heard it all. She was hoping that he didn't and that maybe he came a little before he had dropped that ring on the ground.

Erik cocked his brow, but nodded, "I was there, wasn't I?" She nodded to him slowly, he was there. Then he scowled at her, "Stop acting like a child now and let me finish." She nodded again and obediently she gave him back her leg to let him finish up. He finished in silence and Theresa sat there with her eyes looking down at her lap. She felt so inferior to the Phantom. She wasn't afraid of him, no, in fact she was far from being afraid from. Theresa suddenly felt her chest twist tightly as she decided to look up at him when he was going to put back the alcohol.

She gulped, looking back over at her flock. She gained the nerve to ask, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer to it. "W-Why am I only in my undergarments, Monsieur Phantom?"

The Phantom closed his eyes for a moment and looked over to see the frock folded, with her slippers on top. Theresa could've sworn that she had seen the visible part of his face churn with slight insult. "You fainted and your dress got wet." He walked over to the frock, taking it out from under the slippers and feeling it for a moment. He stated to her, "You were shivering before so I had taken it off of you. It is still damp, but if you are uncomfortable I am sure it would suffice for the time being." He went to throw it over to her, but she held up her hand, shaking her head.

"It is fine, monsieur. I was only wondering. I didn't feel uncomfortable before, if that was what you are thinking. I really hope you understand that I didn't mean offence—." She could've thanked him for not letting her continue, she didn't even know what she was saying.

"No offence was taken, mademoiselle. You talk too much." _Only when I'm nervous,_ she corrected silently. He folded the frock back up and the two faced an awkward silence. Theresa didn't know what to say to him. She felt so nervous, she had no idea why she had. It was almost like she was about to step onto the stage. Whenever she spoke, she was so afraid of saying the wrong thing to him. He started again, "What was going through your mind when entering, mademoiselle?"

"I could've sworn I told you before to call me Theresa, monsieur." She stated to him before answering. He seemed taken back that she used that tone with him, it was so rigid and firm. Theresa took a breath when he nodded. She admitted honestly, "Surely that I wasn't going to come down here and also that you needed more lighting... No one should really go by themselves through there."

"What did you think that you were going to find... Theresa?" He asked her, his tone was clearly irritated by her. The Phantom disappeared out of her sights to walk into another part of his... home. He didn't even wait for an answer from her, which left her to assume that he didn't care for it.

Theresa stood up and walked over to collect her slippers before following him out. She didn't expect to see what she was going to when she came out of his bedroom. It was beautiful. She looked around to see artwork, sculptures that were deformed in the face, there were a couple around of those sculptures around. They were made to be ugly, but how they were formed Theresa could see that it was pure artistry. Theresa looked to find him by an organ where she noticed sheets of paper cluttered and other things along with it. His violin was on top of the table, the sweet and sad violin that she had heard before stepping into the lake.

She ignored his question now, stepping down while her hand traced the cave walls. Theresa stopped when she saw a mannequin looking back at her with a sewn in smile. The mannequin had eyes that were a smoldering brown and she looked like an actual person, if that said person didn't have a body to go with her face. Theresa looked over to the Phantom who was gathering papers off the stand on the organ. Then it came to her, he was the one playing before. She asked him, still ignoring the previous question, "Were you playing before?"

He nodded with the back of his head to her. But then he quickly turned his head to her, "Why?" Theresa just looked at him, she heard a caring tone in his voice, which to her was strange from the previous scowls and sarcasm he used with her. "Did I wake you before?"

She shook her head no, even though it sort of did. "I had a nightmare before," it was actually reliving a nightmare, "your music didn't at all wake me, Monsieur Phan—."

"Erik."

"Excuse me?" Theresa said quickly, the Phantom... did he just say a name?

He sighed, shaking his head, "Never mind, I—."

"No," Theresa gulped, walking toward him. She stepped slowly up the stairs as he looked at her in disbelief. "That's your name? Erik?" Erik nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond to her. "It's a handsome name... Erik. Really, it is. We should meet each other properly now, in a more polite way," she slowly extended her hand toward him with a welcoming smile. "My name is Theresa, the new Prima Donna, and you are, monsieur?"

Erik for a moment looked at the girl like she was foolish. She really was going to do this, start this? He was the Phantom of the Opera! Those who would see his face would cower in fear, even if he wore a mask. And this woman, was standing in front of him... without any fear on her face and she had trust in her eyes for him as she looked up into his. This was... strange. He looked down at her hand, she was holding out determined for him to shake it. He reached for it reluctantly and took it gently within his.

He brought to his lips and before kissing her knuckles lightly, he muttered, "And I am Erik, the Phantom of the Opera." Her smile grew wider when she felt his lips on her skin, they were warm and moist, just how lips should be. He let go of her hand, and asked her curiously, "You are not frightened by me, Theresa?"

She shook her head no, right at that moment she knew that she wasn't. No matter the story of him being a murderer, she strangely had trust in him. Erik had a gentle side to him, he tended to her before when she didn't want him to and he was persistent on doing it. "Actually I am not."

"You are sure?" He asked in hope... he didn't care about what she thought... but it would be nice to know that not everyone was frightened by the Phantom in the _Opera Populaire. _

She nodded, "I am positive, Erik. I'm not." She found herself looking at his handsome features that were on the unmasked side of his face. But mentally slapped her forehead to look away. She added, "It's only a mask, nothing more. And what happened in the past..." she trailed off, she was going too far, she didn't know what he thought of that still. Erik narrowed his eyes at her curiously, waiting for her to continue. She finished cautiously, "is in the past..."

Erik added quietly after her, "Indeed."

"And you are not the man that Henri told me you were," she told him, "your skin isn't yellow and your eyes... aren't sunken in."

Henri... who was Henri again? He sounded like a drunken stagehand. Joseph Buquet used to get away with telling stories like that to the ballerinas when he was drunk. Erik commented, "Sounds like a drunken stagehand." He walked away from her to put his violin away and back into his case. Theresa looked around and she saw several mirrors broken and pictures of a woman draped around Erik's home. She looked behind her shoulder to where the mannequin was, they looked almost identical... or maybe they were.

She shook her head no, walking to one of the pictures of the woman's face with wild curly hair, she had a beautiful face and smile to go along with it. She lightly touched it, tracing the drawing with her finger. She stated to him honestly, "Lately he's more of a drunken lead tenor." Oh, his name was Henri. That name kept escaping his head whenever he would hear of it. Loud snaps from the violin case caused her to turn on her heel as he turned on his own. She quietly asked him, "How long have I been out, monsieur?"

"Not that long," he answered fixing his gloves and sleeves, "an hour and a half at most."

Good, she should go now. Go back to her room. Before anyone would notice, that is. She nodded, with a smile, she started toward the lake, "Maybe I should go, before anyone would notice."

"Go?" Erik questioned, causing Theresa to stop in her step and turn to look at him. Why did he question it like that? "You can't."

Theresa's shoulders slumped and she looked around herself, before looking at him taken back. "I can't? What do you mean by that? Of course, I can." Erik remained silent and the silence gave her the answer of why... or so she thought. She softened and she shook her head, "I will come back again—."

"No, child, that's not why!" Theresa was surprised at how his voice raised from being so gentle and calm. She now almost was frightened by him. She narrowed her eyes at him and stood there frozen like she was about to be hit by a carriage. It hit her, he didn't trust to keep where he was hidden. "You know where I am, I cannot allow you to go up above and spill it when you are asked about me."

"I already lied about your existence before when I saw you and you don't trust me to do it again?" She inquired to him, Theresa could see the anger when she had talked back to him in his eyes. He wasn't talked back to a lot, was he? Erik saw how insulted she looked when she spoke to him and felt a shiver within him. Her hazel eyes looked like they were scorning him. She continued, "In fact, I lied about it twice, not once. You are still a rumour to the performers that saw a letter, I covered that up for you. So if anything, you should be thanking me. You're lucky that I hadn't decided to turn you in to the police here when I found your home, Erik, the whole time it didn't even cross my mind."

How dare this woman talk to him like this? He would not allow it, especially in his own lair! "That doesn't mean anything. You might not even be able to cover it up again."

"I will be able to," she told him firmly, she would be, no matter what he would say. "And they aren't fools, I think several of people would realize that I have disappeared."

"You would be surprised with how many fools are in the _Opera Populaire,_ mademoiselle." Theresa narrowed her eyes at him, they weren't foolish. They would notice their Prima Donna missing, wouldn't they? They were foolish... actually, she would admit, both Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin weren't the brightest, Henri was already drunk and he would have a hangover in the morning to not even notice... She shook her head, no they would notice, why was she being so ridiculous right now?

The two stood their ground and the tension went from nothing to the point of no comfort. Theresa felt like she had to go. She didn't care about the man that had said no, she only had to go.

Theresa gritted her teeth, and looked to the lake to see that at least it was welcoming her to go back to the world above. She slowly walked toward that as Erik continued to let her in shock and disbelief. "I cannot stay, monsieur, I have a performance tomorrow and I should get some sleep like people think I am going to do. I came down on my own, I believe I can go up on my own. Have a good night." He heard how her tone stung with insult and she looked like she was serious for a moment.

Theresa gathered the bottom of her chemise up a bit at her hips before letting her bare feet step into the water. Erik looked at her in total disbelief, he didn't think that she would actually begin to walk ahead. Theresa didn't even look behind her shoulder as she continued forward, her chemise beginning to soak at the bottom and float on the top of the water. She didn't even have to take five more steps for Erik to take notice on how determined this girl was. She really was naïve to start walking in the water and disregard what he said before. Did she not _know _who he was?

For some reason though, Erik went back to when Theresa did have to lie about his presence... she didn't even say a word of hearing his voice to anyone a few days ago.

Erik grunted before changing his mind quickly, "I have an easier way back to your room, Theresa, if you allow me to lead you." Theresa stopped where she was and turned to the Phantom... or rather Erik curiously. He took his cape and with a swish, draped it over his shoulders before going over to her and gesturing to his boat. Theresa looked over at the gondola, only just noticing it. She hadn't seen that before when she was just walking over to the lake. He held out a hand to help her in and she took it reluctantly as she stepped out of the water to get into the boat easily.

She sat down in the gondola, she couldn't even remember the last time she had sat in one. Probably when she was younger before her father had died. Erik took the oar, stepping in himself and began rowing to the other side of the lake.

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_**There it is, Erik and Theresa's first meeting... well, official meeting. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter and I will see you next chapter! :) Don't forget to like the Facebook page for any sneak peeks, character bios, story covers, and other fun stuff. The link is on my profile. And if you are interested, I just posted a new Harry Potter story recently. If you want to check it out, go right ahead, it's a Sirius/OC.**_

_**Happy Veteran's Day!**_


	7. The New Patron

_**Hello! Thank you for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites I've received! It all means a lot, really, and I love you all for them! They make my day :) Hope you enjoy the new chapter and I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving!**_

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_Chapter VII: The New Patron_

Theresa tried to keep up with Erik as she turned corners and walked up stairs. It was amazing how he could manage in these dark hallways. Before she knew it, they were walking down the familiar hallway to the room of the Prima Donna. Their walk was in silence, neither of them had said a word to each other. Erik held onto her hand tightly as Theresa looked around her, the mice scattering on the floor and the cob webs that were spun on the old candelabras, didn't frighten her like they had done before when she was alone. She gulped, the silence was screaming at her for her to talk... say at least something to the man, but—she didn't know why—she was speechless. Almost like she was in awe of not only what just happened but of him as well.

Theresa thought for a moment, thinking of something to say before their walk would end. She felt the tension run through under her skin from being nervous. "Thank... you," she muttered to him once they were closer. Erik stopped and turned on his heel to face her. In the dark, Theresa could see the confused creases on his forehead as he furrowed his brow to her. She gulped before raising her voice for him to hear her, "Thank you for taking me back to my room, Erik. That was very kind of you."

Erik only nodded, letting go of her hand. Theresa missed the feel of his glove with her bare skin... she suddenly wondered how his hands would feel under it. He walked past her, "Well, we wouldn't have wanted another accident like tripping, would we?"

She didn't realize that his voice held a bit of mockery and sarcasm.

She replied, "No, we wouldn't have." Before she walked to the mirror that let her explore to through the labyrinth, she turned to see his shadow walking away. "Wait!" She called. Erik turned around with his cape making a slight swishing noise. Theresa froze for a moment what else did she want to say to him? There was something else...

"Will I see you again? Or... may I visit you again some time? It must be lonely down there, I mean... I could just... oh, look at me all flustered." Her voice became a whisper at the last part. Erik stared at her curiously as she shook her head with a soft smile, he could see a slight blush on her cheeks as she spoke.

"I'm sure that we may see each other in the future. But do not wonder in these tunnels alone, you could get hurt... again, or much worse." His voice was soothing to her ears, she nodded, obeying his command. "As for the visit, it is not needed, as flattering as it might sound."

"But..." Theresa felt herself walking toward him without realizing it, "I want to."

She wanted to? What woman would want to visit a monster like him? Erik didn't know what to say to her, especially since this really never happened before. She was lying, she had to be lying, because who would want to spend time with _him_? He barely could stand himself in his own solitude at times and Christine, the woman he loved, didn't even offer. He saw truth in her hazel eyes and they were pleading to him, in a way, to get him to believe it.

He shook his head mentally, this was getting to his head and he had to go before it goes in his head any further.

Instead of rejecting her, his mouth formulated the words, "We'll see," in response to her. Theresa frowned visibly and her shoulders slumped, clearly she wasn't happy with the answer he had given her. But she didn't need to be happy with it, it was his answer.

She didn't argue with it like she wanted to, she only nodded. It was his home, she was only offering. But 'we'll see' could mean yes, so she brought her smile that he had only seen a couple of times that night. Theresa watched him turn on his heel without a goodbye or goodnight to her, so she called for him again. She had something else to say. "Wait!" Erik's shoulders slumped as he turned to face her again. Theresa could definitely see that he was getting more infuriated with her, he obviously wanted to be left alone.

"What is it now?" He asked her calmly.

Theresa tossed a careful look behind her shoulder like she felt that there was someone behind her, but when she turned to face Erik again, she gulped. She thanked him again, cautiously, "Thank you... again"

Erik raised his eyebrow at her, his visible one. He took several steps toward her and stopped at a safe distance, she only saw the faded image of his white mask, which stood out more than anything on him. It would be horrifying for one to see at night, staring at them, especially since he had worn almost all black. But for her... she didn't find it horrifying at the slightest bit. It was... mystifying, and it fit him perfectly.

Was it strange that she felt comfort from it? Her mind was driven by fantasies in novels that it composed her mind to think like that. The man was a murderer, an arsonist, and... kidnapper from what she heard and yet she wasn't afraid of him at all.

"What for, Theresa?" He asked her curiously, he was almost afraid of the answer. He didn't remember anything else that would warrant a thank you.

She gulped and took another step toward him, she didn't want to go back to her room so she was stalling. "For the rose, it was unexpected and it smelled sweet," like the act of giving it, she refused to say it however. Actually, she couldn't get over the fact that she had actually gotten it still. It really was a surprise to her, one of the few in her life that she had actually liked. "It was just... unexpected and I would like to thank you for the pleasant surprise."

"You earned it," Erik stated to her. He couldn't help but smile, the first smile in a while it seemed, at her. He held out his hand to Theresa to lead her back to her room since she was drifting _away _from him. "There is no need to thank me. Now, come with me." Theresa's eyes narrowed at the hand, but she gently took it. She felt herself being led to her room again by him, but this time she was taken all the way.

"You need your rest, mademoiselle," Theresa winced at him being formal with her. She told him to call him Theresa before and only that. The Opera Ghost shouldn't have to be formal since this was _his_ Opera House. Theresa wouldn't be formal with anyone if she was in his position. Erik helped her step down into her room where there was now only a few candles a lit, most already had gone out. Erik looked over at the wide open mirror that let her through. Then he looked back at her as she moved to unlock the door, both the top lock and the lock on the doorknob.

Erik raised his eyebrow, "Both locks?"

"Yes, both locks, to be careful." For a moment, Erik sworn that careful wasn't even in her vocabulary. The woman was obviously a clumsy thing, when she was behind him Erik had to move slowly because he felt by just holding her hand that she was wobbling where she stood. She continued, "I told you to call me Theresa, you shouldn't have to be formal all the time, Monsieur Opera Ghost. This is _your_ Opera House after all." Her tone was mocking as she turned to face him.

For once he didn't mind the mocking tone that she had, "It is, but if I am not formal then who would listen to me?" Even when he was being polite and formal six years ago, however, none of them were at all listening to him. Fools. They would listen now, no doubt. Theresa looked up at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

She nodded, appreciative, "Touché."

"Thank you." He mocked a bow of his head to her. "And I would do as the lady pleases, Theresa. Only, of course, if you call me Erik." Theresa nodded. Erik turned toward the mirror and took a step up to go back. Before he started the long way back to the labyrinth, he turned to Theresa, who was looking at him confused; her smirk had fallen. Why did she have that fall? "Now, I must leave. You need your rest, Theresa." Theresa had grown a dismayed expression on her face, but soon she nodded. But so soon? "I bid you goodnight."

"Goodnight, Erik." And just like that, Theresa watched as the Phantom... Erik, moved behind the mirror and closed its door. She stood there, seeing his faint image through it... or thinking she does. Theresa sighed, she didn't think that she could sleep now. Theresa closed her eyes before she moved to her bed, it was strange.

The memory she dreamed about gave her such a strange feeling. Her father wanted her to never forget the piano and now that she remembered that, she opened her eyes. Theresa walked over to the trunk by her bed and she dug to the bottom to see old sheets of music.

She found a room with a piano, it wasn't in the theater, thank God. It was in a practice room... she thought it was a practice room at least. Theresa laid each on her bed as she knelt before it. She actually had a lot of pieces to choose from. She hadn't mastered them all, but she mastered most. She flexed her long fingers and clasped her hands together to crack her knuckles like she was before the piano itself.

She would find one. She would definitely find that one room tonight. She then held up one and smiled softly, she didn't know why but this was her father's favorite. He played it all the time. _Liebestraum _by Liszt. He played if for mamma.

Theresa remembered his lips pursed as his fingers did all the work they needed to do along the keys. Her mother would always watch him with a loving smile on her face. How the harmonies clashed together, she didn't even need to look at the music. She stood up taking another piece of music also, one that she happened to like. _A Time for Us, _it was about Romeo and Juliet. It was just as beautiful.

Before she left the room she looked at the mirror, recognizing what she was wearing. She chuckled, smirking to herself.

"Looks like Monsieur Phantom is going to have to see me soon after all." She had left her flock downstairs. Theresa shook her head and took her robe; only placing the music down for a second as she tossed it over her shoulders. No one was going to see her. She had her robe so if anyone were to, it wasn't like she was going to be just in a chemise. She folded her robe to cover her before she left her room.

Theresa sighed, she couldn't go and play. She felt her body shut down slowly as she yawned. Maybe if she went to sleep, it would be smarter. She could always play. Theresa backed away from the door and got to her bed, gathering the music back into her small leather folder. Some pieces were of her father's that he made by ear, just remembering how each composer wanted it to sound in performance on the piano.

She opened her trunk again, placing the folder on top of her clothes. Closing it again, she looked over at the lonely rose on the table before getting up and untying the silk ribbon off of it.

Being careful to not touch the thorns, she held it and brought it over to the nightstand. She sat down on her bed and then took the ribbon to tie it around the bed post that was on the headboard.

* * *

"Stomach in, mademoiselle!" Henrietta scowled at her as she tugged the strings tightly causing Theresa to clutch her diaphragm grasping. She tried not to glare at the mirror at the woman who was putting on her costume for her. It was the downside of being a Prima Donna, for each performance, her waist had to be at least twenty inches to go up on stage. Twenty inches! She doubted that the lot of those people would at all pay attention. They didn't put as much makeup on her as they did the night before, she was thankful for that.

She couldn't take it anymore, she felt her ribs being crushed and her lungs begin to collapse. She told her, "I..." she was losing her breath now, too, "I think that is enough for now." She chuckled weakly as Henrietta only loosened her hold on the strings, but she was still holding them. "If you tug on them anymore I don't know how I would go on stage to sing tonight without any breath to have."

"But, mademoiselle," she started to protest, as Theresa turned on her heels so that Henrietta's hands would go off the back of her corset. "You're not nearly close to twenty inches yet!"

"Believe me, it's fine." Theresa insisted, stepping down from the stool for her dress to be promptly put on. "No one is going to pay mind, trust me." Her hair was manipulated into being curls and it framed her face. Last night they left her to hair hang on her shoulders, but now they pulled most of it back with pins. Henrietta loudly groaned while Theresa pretended to not notice it. She propped her arms up as the dress was put on her. She suddenly felt like a doll. Couldn't she get dressed herself?

Was this really necessary?

She pulled her own arms through the sleeves and felt the buttons on the back be pulled. The lavender dress seemed more low cut than it was the night before. Theresa stepped into the heels Henrietta laid out for her and she went to buckle them herself, but Henrietta was more than happy to just do it for her. She really needed to get used to this life. A new thing would pop up every day that she had to learn to live with.

"Mademoiselle?" She heard one of the manager's voices from behind the door. Theresa didn't know whose it belonged to. "Are you decent?" Theresa didn't answer verbally, instead she nodded over to Henrietta to open the door for them. When the door opened it revealed both of the managers. They both seemed to wear the same smiles on their faces. She sometimes had the urge to ask if the two were cousins, they could be... Firman and André, to her, seemed like almost the same person.

"Ciao," Theresa waved her hand at the two, they were both looking her up and down.

"Bonjour," Firman said with a slight bow of his head. Next to him André held a bouquet of flowers out to her. She didn't even go up on stage yet and already she was given flowers. She smiled, muttering a thank you as she took them by the stems. He explained, "We meant to give you these before we had left yesterday, but Monsieur D'Aubigne stated that you were retiring early last night."

He did? How did he know—she had forgotten that he barged in on her before she went through the mirror. Oh... maybe he wasn't as drunk since he still had somewhat of a sober mind. "They are beautiful, thank you." She took a quick smell of them, letting the sweet aroma fill her nostrils. She gave them to Henrietta to put them somewhere, anywhere. "I hope you enjoyed last night's performance. I would've talked with you two last night, but I was ushered into this room right when I was done."

Monsieur André chuckled lightly, "We understand completely. It was your debut after all. It could be a bit overwhelming what had happened last night."

"A standing ovation!" Firman mused, his elated smile still on his face as he threw his hands on either side of him. He continued, "And on your debut? Magnifique!" He grabbed both of her shoulders as she giggled, a blush coloring her cheeks. "You should be very proud, signora. Extremely proud. The only other woman to do that was our old soprano, Christine Daae! Not even La Carlotta... I think... had a full standing ovation around the grand theater like you had. Isn't that so, André?"

"I believe so!" André moved to the door and looked out for a moment as if he was looking for someone. "And we have someone that wanted to give you a praise before you had retired," he stated quickly before shouting, "Monsieur!" out the door. Theresa raised her eyebrow as she watched him wave over whoever wanted to meet her. André quickly explained, giving her a sideways glance, "He's coming, he is just talking to Madame Giry's girl in the hall. He really wanted to meet you last night, but he didn't want to bother you. So he wanted to wish you to break a leg before you would go up!"

"Don't you mean good luck?" Firman tried to correct, looking over his shoulders. He briefly had let go of Theresa's shoulders as she giggled softly shaking her head no. They really were fools when it had come down to it.

André shook his head no, "No, I believe it is bad luck to say good luck before a performance. Isn't that right, signora?"

Firman looked back to her, seeing her nod. Theresa held in her giggles to not embarrass him, but it was odd that he hadn't a clue. Especially since he was one of the managers! How could she hold that in? But she had to... with great regret. She told him slowly, "Yes, in the theater, good luck means bad luck and bad luck means good luck. In fact, it's almost just as bad as saying Macbeth close by the theater. Except there isn't a way to counter it... I don't think anyway." Firman still looked perplexed by what she just said. Like it was outrageous to believe.

She added to him quickly. "It's okay," she was going to lie for the man to not make him feel bad or a fool, "my mother and my father had done performances all the time and I didn't know that until I started to work here." She really knew it since she turned five.

"Mademoiselle," before Firman could speak, Henrietta spoke up with a slight curtsy. "I must be leaving you now."

"Oh," Theresa bowed her head in gratitude, "thank you then for all you have done, Henrietta. I will see you after." With that, Henrietta smiled softly before leaving through the wide-opened door.

Theresa waved a small goodbye gracefully then she heard Firman ask in front of her. "And... what is the way to counter saying _that, _signora?" Theresa didn't expect him to question that. She sighed, she wasn't really sure how to counter the Macbeth superstition. She knew there was a way... Theresa straightened her back and her eyes were cast to the ground as she rubbed her forehead in thought. Now that she couldn't think of it, she would have it plague her mind all night.

She shrugged, she couldn't let it stay, "I really don't know, monsieur. Perhaps the other performers would know, I really can't think of it."

"Nor should you need to," André told her, with a smile that spread from ear to ear. He was still waiting by the door for the guest that was to arrive. He looked to Firman, "Now, stop all the talk of superstition. It drives my head in circles." Firman nodded to him, taking a shoulder of Theresa's and bringing her over to the mirror. It felt like the time when he had done it when she was about to leave the _Opera Populaire. _

She was looking at her own reflection and a smile began to tug. Firman smiled at her admiringly, "Now, look at you and to think you were going to leave a week ago. Time has flown by and you grew so much from almost nothing. And still you have that determined look in your eye. I think Monsieur André and I had made a fine discovery when you came into our study, finding us! Isn't that right, André?"

He replied excited, ushering in the patron, "Indeed it is! Now, Signora Baccelli," she turned on her heel and Firman took step behind him with a crooked grin. Theresa saw a man, a tall man with large brown eyes and a smile. His eyes were smiling also. He was handsome, with his blonde hair sitting atop his head in short curls. He seemed a bit older than her, but not that much older. Theresa noticed that he had dimples when he was smiling, they indented the laugh lines that were faint. The man was every bit of a noble in his attire also. "We would like you to meet the _Vicomte,_" he emphasized the title more than he should for her, "Gaston Fortescue, our new patron."

Patron? But what had happened to the Comte de Chagny? Wasn't he their patron? Theresa didn't want to seem rude, but she raised her eyebrow to André, with concern written on her face. "But what had happened with the Contare?"

She heard Firman next to her, "The Contare?"

Gaston laughed loudly, taking a step forward. He explained, "That means _Comte _in Italian, monsieur." Firman mouthed an 'oh' with his crooked grin still on his face. He walked over to André's side. "And the Comte de Chagny had family business to take care of, far too much for his younger brother to handle alone since he spent much of his time here. So, I had agreed to come and support the arts of the _Opera Populaire. _And my family knows more about the operas like it is the back of our hands, so I couldn't refuse that offer." He chuckled softly to himself.

Gaston held out his hand for Theresa. Her subtle, welcoming smile made way before she placed it there. She learned how to please the nobles from the ball. "Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Vicomte Fortescue."

"Pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle." He bent over and kissed her hand lightly. "I just wanted to tell you that your performance last night was very good." Gaston looked behind his shoulder at Firman and André who were watching them with an amused look in their eyes. Gaston smirked and gave them a nod while gesturing to the door, "May I have a moment lone with her please, monsieurs?"

The two by the door looked at each other, then at the Vicomte. They nodded together in unison before doing what he had asked of them. The door softly had closed with a soft click. Gaston let out a sigh of relief with the shake of his head as he looked over at Theresa. Theresa didn't know what he wanted to say to her... alone. It didn't at all seem to her good for some reason. Theresa didn't even know why she was nervous actually. He asked her curiously, "Are they always like... that?"

She nodded, looking at the door where they left. "All the time."

"Oh, the horror," Theresa looked over at him to see a bit humor in his eyes. Humor? That was something she would hardly expect. He continued, "and to think that I have to deal with it everyday. My days are definitely going to be humorous, no doubt."

"No doubt at all." Theresa stated, flattening her dress as a smirk tugged on her mouth to match his. "They can be overwhelming at times. The men would do anything to get some profit in their pockets." She shouldn't have said that, especially around the patron. But she did feel comfort around him, there was something about him that made her trust him. Maybe it was how his brown eyes seemed friendly and warm.

Gaston nodded in agreement, "I can tell already. Are they related in anyway? Shape or form? I don't know why, but they could be long lost twins, you know?"

She chuckled, "I know." It was almost like this man could read her mind! She was just thinking about it before when they entered in on her. "Those two are characters but they are entertaining to be around. I remember when I told them I was leaving because of my cold feet, they told me anything and everything to boost up my self-esteem. They are actually very good at... groveling I think."

"Yes, that is a good quality to have," he started, "And if I am to be entertained than I would like my stay here even more. My first four days of being patron had definitely, without any doubt were interestingly..." he trailed off, finding the right word. He seemed to be in deep thought of it. He chuckled lightly, shrugging, "interesting!" She laughed nodding to him, he was definitely different from the other nobles. He was easy to get along with. "How long have you known them both? A while, probably, right?"

She hummed, thinking for a moment, "At least four months. It feels like a short amount of time though."

"It does seem like a short amount time!" He agreed with her. "Little time to prepare for the show last night, I think."

"I only had four weeks of rehearsals," she admitted to him as she took a seat by her vanity. Her legs were growing tired already. The man's jaw visibly dropped and his eyes widened in shock. It was a short amount of time to learn everything, she would admit, and for him it wasn't not enough probably. "And I made changes to the music with Monsieur Reyer three days before last night to the encore."

He looked at her in disbelief for a moment, but then he saw that she was being honest. He chuckled in disbelief for a moment and then admitted to her, "Unbelievable, you had to have great training for that, mademoiselle, truly!" Theresa nodded to him, but she didn't say who it was from. She was trying to stray away from her mother's training to find her own voice and she had somewhat succeeded in that. She needed more improvement. "And I notice your accent now, you don't sing with it. That must be hard, it sounds really strong."

Theresa admitted, "It's a horrible part of me. I wish I didn't talk with it, but it is all that I have from home."

"What part are you from?" He asked curiously, looking at her from head to toe. Theresa went to open her mouth to answer, but he held out his finger to her. "Wait, let me guess," she raised her eyebrow as he placed it on her lips and looked down in thought. It seemed a while before he answered, "Ah, I know! Florence. Beautiful part, I like their artwork."

She chuckled, shaking her head no. "Not at all close. I was born in Venice and mostly raised in Naples."

"Really?" She nodded curtly at him. "That's very interesting, I wouldn't have guessed."

"Then thank God I didn't let you guess any more." Theresa said to him quickly. "Wait a minute," she held up her finger. It was strange how this was the first time that they were meeting each other. He said before that he had been here for four days now and she hadn't noticed him at all? Theresa didn't even hear talk of him until now, she was busy through the days but she had heard more talk about the Phantom than the handsome new patron. Obviously the vicious gossip only revolved around one thing at a time.

"This is the first time we're meeting," she started skeptically, "and I haven't even heard talk that you were the new patron from others. That's so strange, isn't it?"

He chuckled lightly, "No, it isn't. I wanted to meet you last night face-to-face. You retired too early for me, so I decided before the performance I would take a chance. As for the talk around here, I have no say in that. I'm not very intriguing. I'll admit that to you. But I was nervous for this meeting, it's going better than I thought it would." She raised her eyebrow in question. Why was he nervous about it? He figured he would need to explain that, "I've heard your Prima Donnas can turn into Prima Monstres."

It took a moment to realize what that meant, but she realized that it was so close to _monsters_. She hoped that she wasn't one to him now. "Don't worry, you seem like you couldn't turn the slightest, mademoiselle." He assured her.

"Oh, that's good." Theresa hoped that she wouldn't have her moments. Like the one she had with Reyer, she could still shiver from the guilt with talking to him like _that._ "You don't have to call me mademoiselle, monsieur." She told him with a smile as she stood up on her feet. "Theresa would be fine."

He chuckled, "Alright then. My friends call me Jean."

Theresa raised her eyebrow that had recently fallen. Jean? His name was Gaston? Why would he want to be called Jean? It didn't make any sense to her. She didn't even think that name stemmed off of Gaston so it wouldn't have made sense to her. She repeated slowly, "Jean..." He nodded just as slowly, like nothing was wrong with it. Would it be rude to ask what would possess him to allow people to call him Jean? She decided to take that bold risk. It needed to be done to stop her curious thoughts. "Why Jean?"

"Well, it all started when I was younger. My friend that my tutor home-schooled with me was the one who started it. It... rung. Jean Emmanuelle Fortescue. It sounds better, not as dry. So, it was turned into a habit and my friends started to call me it. It stuck with me," he threw his hands on either side of him, "what can I say? I think it sounds better. I automatically answer more to it than my actual name."

"If that is so," Theresa started, "then you should change it to Jean. It does sound better, but it would confuse people like me."

Gaston... well, uh, Jean... (it was strange how she had to call him that now) sighed grudgingly. "I would _love_ to. But, of course, I have this terrible threat that my father proposed to disinherit me if I try to do that. The name was my grandfather's who had died before I was born and my father's, it's passed down to the first born. It is an honor to have it, but I think my brother would rather have it than I; he seems more like that name than me."

"Ah, I understand—." She was cut off by the door opening. Theresa and Jean's head snapped to the figure that stood there. Henri took a step in all in costume. She was still getting used to the makeup that he had worn. He looked very much different with it on and it made him look older. Henri looked between them, uncertain how he should make of this. "Henri," she started, she was actually pleased to see him. Theresa hadn't seen him all day which was strange, he would make a short appearance usually... they all seemed to be at the times where she _didn't_ want to see him as well.

"Ah, Monsieur D'Aubigne," Jean moved away from her to look at him up and down. "Pleasure seeing you again."

"You, too, monsieur," Henri nodded his head thoughtfully to him. His eyes switched from Jean to Theresa quickly and unnoticed by Jean. The air in the room suddenly had gotten awkward between them all and Theresa and Jean looked at each other innocently. They didn't do anything that deserved the sudden awkward chill. Well, in their eyes they were friends, but in Henri's eyes he somehow was glad that they were interrupted by him. Henri gulped, clearing his throat, "I didn't know you were in here."

Jean moved more away from her as he looked around the room. Theresa thought it was amazing how the man could turn from Jean to Gaston just like that. She could have done it with the snap of her fingers since it was so astonishing. "Well, yes, I am here," his tone was suave and proper. It was flawless. "I wanted to meet the lovely soprano here. You said she retired early last night so I couldn't go on seeing the next show without congratulating her on her debut," which he still hadn't done. He quickly looked over at her and quietly said, "Congratulations, Theresa."

She nodded her head, "Thank you, _Jean_." Henri raised his eyebrow at her when she said Jean. That wasn't his name.

He smiled at her appreciatively and then turned back to Henri, "Well, I wish you both to break a leg tonight. I'll be off to my box now." Jean walked away from Theresa and while Henri glared at him for him to incinerate (it didn't work), he walked out just as gracefully as he had walked in. Theresa could feel him and her would be really good friends in the coming future, nothing more.

Henri cleared his throat, "Time to go, Theresa." Theresa looked at him, the tone of his voice made her shudder for a moment. She didn't know why it had, it bothered her. He sounded a bit worried and not like himself. Theresa nodded slowly for him before walking past him to go backstage. He looked around the room for a moment, his eyes landing on the white rose that was on her nightstand. It was something that he didn't want to see there. He suddenly hoped it would die.

And with that hope, he brought a fake smile before following her.

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_**Hope you all enjoyed it :) Henri gets a little jealous, doesn't he? We all have that friend who doesn't like their real name so they change it to something else unofficially, don't we? Thank you for reading and I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving! If you hadn't already, like me on facebook for previews, character bios & physical appearances, and direct links to new updates :)**_


	8. Not as Planned

_**Hello all! Thank you for the feedback from last chapter, you guys are the best and it's always a pleasure to read your thoughts. I hope you all enjoy the new chapter and if you are Jewish, I know tomorrow is the first day of Hanukkah, so I hope you enjoy! :)**_

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_Chapter VIII: Not as Planned_

It wasn't a surprise that when the performance was over and when she was ushered into the room by Madame Giry—since there was even more people than the day before who wanted to interview her and give her praise outside her room—that on the chair on top was her folded frock that she had left down in the Phantom's lair. Now Theresa found out why he was called the phantom, Erik was more elusive and sneaky than the common man. He must have had done it right when she had left, too. The folded frock seemed to be there for a while. Theresa looked around the room, it seemed to be just how she had left it. It was almost ten as she sat at her vanity.

The door opened without a sound and it took Theresa a moment to realize that it was a woman dressed in a pale green gown. It hung off her shoulders and her waist was made to be skinnier than hers. Theresa thought that to be impossible. The skirt of her dress bustled to the floor with a flawless floral design that had the colour of a soft black. She wore a necklace of diamonds and her ears had earrings of pearls. She was rich. Theresa could tell just looking at her.

At her side was Jean who had a smile on his face. But his eyes were distant and his smile was far from being bright.

"Signora," he started, walking with the woman on his arm. Theresa acknowledged the two of them with a small smile and Meg followed behind them, but staying by the door. Jean looked between the woman and Theresa, who were looking at each other with a mild interest. "I want you to meet my fiancé, Monique Bonnet." Her cold, black eyes held no feeling at all. The beautiful woman with her cheeks painted with a light pink that matched her petite mouth knew what status she was compared to Theresa. Clearly she was proud of it.

Theresa tried to remain cordial with the pompous air flooding around her so suddenly. "Monique, this is Signora Theresa Baccelli, the Prima Donna." She bowed her head at her and held out her hand for Monique to shake.

The woman only looked at it. This was Jean's fiancé? She was nothing like him. Monique only curtsied showing a bit of politeness. She declined the hand that Theresa offered her, which Theresa slowly brought down. Theresa tried to show that she wasn't at all taken aback by this. Monique said to her, in an almost high-pitched, forced tone, "Pleasure, I am sure."

"Pleasure?" Theresa questioned softly for a moment not realizing what she meant. She took pleasure in meeting her? Clearly her sour face spoke for itself. She looked like she smelled something funny just by the way she crinkled her nose while faking that smile. "Oh," she realized that Monique thought that Theresa was taking in pleasure meeting her. Woman was delusional. She only met her for a second and already she wanted her out. But she politely replied, "Pleasure is all mine. It's great to meet Jean's fiancé."

Monique's smile fell and she furrowed her brow at her, "Jean?" Jean visibly gulped and turned to look away from her as she was still hooked on his arm. Monique looked over at him clearly dismayed. "I thought I knew your name as Gaston."

Jean's jaw visibly tensed. Maybe he didn't like her, too. By the way he looked at her, he didn't seem to. Jean looked over to explain, but Theresa stepped in to help. Standing up from her seat, she stated, looking apologetically at Monique, "Oh, I apologize. His name _is _Gaston. I was just talking to that... French journalist... uh, Jean..." she trailed off, not finding a last name.

Meg decided to save the day from the door, "Jean Dubois!" Monique looked behind her shoulder and at the sound of her voice, so did Jean. A real smile crossed his face as the blonde came walking to Theresa's side and away from the door. Jean's eyes followed while his smile visibly grew. Theresa saw a strange look in his eyes as he looked at her. She couldn't pinpoint it. Meg looked to Monique as her eyes scorned Meg's precious brown ones. Why did they look like they were scorning? Meg explained to her, "Well, you see... a man talked to her before maman rushed her in here. His name was Jean. She gets tired and singing on stage could be tiring. She even messed up my name several times and her and I are good friends."

Monique's scorning stare made Meg more nervous as she spoke. A great look of admiration sprawled on Jean's face and he mouthed appreciative, 'Merci.' Monique looked to Theresa, who was smiling innocently. She looked down at the floor and shook her head. Theresa admitted to her, bringing her eyes back to look into hers, "I know, it's silly of me to not know the patron's name by heart already. But I did only meet him today."

"Yes, but I did make it a point to meet you sooner," Jean said to her quickly, holding up a single finger. His eyes never left Meg as he talked to her. Theresa tried not to gawk at what she was seeing, but she made it a point to lightly kick his foot when his fiancé wasn't looking. He was brought out of it and looked to Theresa taken aback, but she only looked back at him warningly. He could've thanked her as well, but instead he teased, "And I did hear that people were talking about my arrival."

"I live under a rock usually," she retorted to him.

He countered easily. Chastising her came easily since they had met."I see that... probably in the woods where the wolves live to not hear it."

"The rock must be very big, too," Monique started, looking at Theresa, her fake smile back to haunt her. Monique continued and what she was saying to Theresa sounded more of an insult if anything, "To not hear of Gaston being the patron of the _Opera Populaire_ is absurd. He is part of one of the most prominent families in France next to mine. It indeed is a silly thought that you made it a point to not remember his name, signora." She laughed loudly and Theresa hated it.

Theresa mumbled softly, "Silly thought indeed."

Jean gulped, obviously the meeting between the two wasn't going as _planned_. She was going to be invited to dinner, but he could see the distaste in Monique's eyes. He felt it come to a close, even though it was so short a meeting. "Well..." he trailed off, he couldn't possibly know how to even leave now... it was getting awkward by the moment. Jean went on to saying, "Congratulations, Theresa. You sang beautifully tonight." Jean looked over at Meg and nodded to her. "You too... Meg, your dancing was sublime." A genuine smile was exchanged between the two of them.

Theresa could feel Meg's happiness just from the compliment. She tried not to roll her eyes, it was clear to see that the two took a fancy with each other. This was bad... very bad and it wasn't going to get better with the coming weeks if they continue... whatever it was that they were doing. Theresa answered for the both of them, "Thank you, J—Gaston." She cursed herself for the mistake. Jean chuckled to cover it up and nodded. Theresa looked over at Monique, "Nice to meet you, Monique."

"Same to you," replied Monique shortly. Theresa tried to hold back a scowl. Monique didn't bother with saying goodbye to the ballerina. She patted Jean's arm who looked over at her. "Come on Jean, my mother and father are awaiting in the carriage for dinner." Jean sighed a bit grudgingly, but Monique didn't notice at all. He nodded to her and then looked to Theresa and Meg a bit apologetically. Jean gave the two of them a small wave before turning with her on the crook of his arm.

Meg and Theresa stood there watching them leave and when the door shut behind them, Theresa looked over at Meg curiously. "Well," she started, her eyes flickering from Meg to the door several times. "That was... interesting, wasn't it?"

She replied shortly, still looking at the door dazed, "Very."

"Monique is... very courteous." Theresa said slowly and carefully. Meg looked over at her like she was insane. "She at least had the great mind to put on a fake smile for the two of us. That might have been her good deed for the day." Meg and her shared a laugh at the small joke. The two plopped in two seats, Theresa crossed her legs while looking at the door with slight disgust. "That woman better watch next time who she looks at like that. Maybe I won't be so polite next time."

Meg shook her head no, "Too bad that she is there to stay. Poor Jean," the sadness in her voice was evident as she spoke of her. Theresa raised both of her eyebrows as she continued, "stuck in that arranged marriage." Oh, no wonder were the two nothing alike at all. The marriage was _arranged_. Theresa thanked the heavens that her father and mother were no longer there to arrange marriages for her. Her mother would have surely, but her father would have stopped it before it would happen.

"Oh, I knew that him and her wouldn't be together otherwise. That is such a shame," admitted Theresa honestly. Theresa wasn't upset about the aspect that Jean was getting married, no, she didn't like him like that. The shame about it was that he was wasting a life with a woman that he clearly didn't love. Meg slowly nodded agreeing with her, but she didn't say a word. Theresa sighed, "That handsome man being married to that pompous ra—."

"Theresa!" Meg laughed, shoving her shoulder lightly to cut her off. "You shouldn't speak ill of her like that."

"You're right I shouldn't," chuckled Theresa, looking at the door. "I only just met the woman." Theresa looked over at Meg, maybe she should pull it out of her easily and slowly. Theresa was never good at being subtle when she wanted to know something or when she was curious. It would bother her like an insect for the rest of the night if she didn't ask. But she would be subtle about it, get it out of her gradually. She started nonchalantly, "So how did you find out about him being in an arranged marriage, Meg? Are you two close?"

Maybe that wasn't as nonchalant and subtle like she wanted but it was a start. Meg nodded, "I have talked to him since the first day he started being the patron. Nice man, he had told me yesterday about it. He seemed very distraught about it as he told me though. I cannot blame him, it must be horrible for him to be in that."

"Hmm," she hummed, looking at Meg in a way like she was trying to figure it out. Meg had cast her eyes downward and Theresa shrugged her shoulders. She pressed on further; she had a feeling that she wasn't going to get anywhere with this at all. "He is handsome. I only remember some of the patrons from my mother's operas. I was young, but I still remember. They were all old and not good-looking."

Meg nodded, "The patrons here have been the same. I think the youngest before Jean was the Vicomte De Chagny, Raoul. As you know, he married the Prima Donna before you, Christine." Her voice seemed to dampen a bit saying Christine's name out loud. Theresa frowned, they must have been friends maybe before. Theresa smiled sympathetically at her and Meg felt her gaze on her. She explained, "Christine and I were friends since she came here when she was seven after her father died. She was like a sister and I hadn't seen her for a while, only a couple of times since she married."

She understood what she was talking about. When her friends were married off while she was being trained, she felt so alone since she suddenly saw them a couple of times here and there. Theresa had never gotten two words in a conversation since there was no conversation when she would see them. That was why her thirst for marriage to be with them only made her resent her mother at times. Theresa stated to her optimistically, "Well, who knows, there might be many times soon after those couple. She probably misses you too, Meg."

Meg smiled back at her and opened her mouth to say something when the door opened revealing Madame Giry. Meg and Theresa looked over at the door where she stood in immediate attention. "There you are, Meg." she stated, "I've been looking for you." Meg stood up obediently for her mother as she walked toward them. Out of instinct, even though she wasn't a ballerina and Madame Giry couldn't punish her (she probably wouldn't), Theresa straightened her posture for she was slightly slouching.

The mistress looked to Theresa, a smile on her face, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. "I should have known to find her here with you. Don't know why I hadn't checked here first," the thick accent from her voice was hard for Theresa to almost understand what she was saying to her. When Theresa talked did people understand what she was saying most of the time with her accent? She suddenly wondered that.

Theresa didn't respond, she merely nodded. The Madame took her daughter by the shoulders. "Now, all the other dancers are going to bed now. I suggest you..." she trailed off. Theresa watched her carefully for a moment and followed her eyes to where they were gazing at. They looked strange and maybe a little worried. "Theresa," Theresa saw Madame Giry let go of her daughter's shoulders and absently go to where she was looking at. Theresa watched as she picked up a white rose with a black ribbon on it tied in a perfect knot. The discomfort clearly on her face.

She continued, "Where—Where have you...gotten this rose from?" It was Erik again. Theresa tried not to widen her eyes, she should have saw it sooner but she was too absorbed to notice it yet again. Theresa slowly stood up and hovered over Madame Giry's shoulder to see that she was touching the black ribbon tentatively like it was going to burn her if she would. Should she lie? Should she tell the truth? Or should she say she didn't know?

Theresa gulped inwardly and slowly Madame Giry looked over to her. Theresa thought quickly, "Henri."

"Henri had given this to you?" Madame Giry asked, Theresa got the feeling that she didn't believe her. Theresa tried to make her point believable.

"Yes, he had. It's beautiful, isn't it?" Theresa pointed out and gently took the rose out of her hands. The pricks on it, she noticed, weren't there. "It took me by surprise. He even took the time in taking off the thorns for me. Monsieur D'Aubigne can be a gentleman when he really wants to be..." Theresa held the rose tightly, worried that she would get it taken away if she wasn't careful. Madame Giry looked into her eyes for a while, she knew that she was lying. But soon broke her gaze from her.

"Pass my compliments to Monsieur D'Aubigne then," she stated softly and reluctantly. Theresa nodded slowly, taking a step back from her as she still held the rose possessively. Madame Giry looked over at Meg. "Come on, my dear. It's time to retire to bed."

"Yes, maman." Meg stated with a small nod. She looked over at Theresa, "Goodnight, Theresa."

"Goodnight," said Theresa to the both of them. She watched the two of them leave her room and shut the door quietly. Theresa stood there for a moment, her eyes suddenly drawn to the rose that was in her hand. The Phantom didn't have trust in her now? He owed her even more for hiding his secret from Madame Giry, the woman that she was sometimes scared of. Theresa stood there still and she felt something cold go through her while in the warm room for a split second. Theresa felt herself walk slowly to her vanity, placing the rose there.

She then went to her bookcase, skimming the binding of each that had the titles written in cursive. Theresa took the one on the far end, _The Hunchback of Notre Dame. _The pages in it were untouched and after she placed it on her bed, changed quickly into a nightgown, she opened it to find the smell of a new book open up in her lap as she sat on her bed. She got it the first time she stepped into Paris. But she never brought herself to read it until then. How little did she know that she'd be reading it all night, unable to stop.

* * *

Theresa woke up late the next day with the book opened on her lap. She fell asleep. The page was turned to one of the later chapters, not many works made her do this. There were only a couple that had. Theresa blinked repeatedly to get her vision back to normal from it being blurry. It took her awhile to actually get up, but she had forgotten that she didn't _need_ to.

They were all off. The Opera House usually takes days off after a performance. Until they get what they are to work on next. Theresa heard the managers talking about a newer ballet... Swan Lake, she believed it was called. But she wasn't sure, she might have been wrong.

The day went on to be very uneventful. Theresa was in need of work the whole day and no one was in the mood giving it to her. Small things, like helping out in the kitchen, helping with the chores around the Opera House. She wanted to help to keep her mind from being bored, but no one had let her. All of them would only give her a funny look, ask 'Why?', and then laughed while they continued their work. She found a lot of the people absent as well when she had awaken. She didn't even remember sleeping last night, which was strange enough for her.

Theresa went to the small cafe with the people she thought that she would never go with. The managers. They invited her to go with them across the street and their conversations were all blurred out by her. She really didn't care about what they were talking about. They ate lunch rather late, too. It was around half past two, and when they came out, Theresa didn't realize how long it was that André and Firmin kept talking on and on for... with basically only between the two of them! It was already almost five!

When she had gotten to her room it was a quarter past five. Theresa sighed as she opened the day the light was straining through the opened curtains as the sun was beginning to set. She shook her head, she just had lunch and soon she would have to have dinner because it was served at around six. Speaking of dinner, Theresa kicked a small note that she didn't noticed was slid under the door before. The sound of the paper shifting across the floor caused her to bend over and pick it up in her hand. The parchment was folded over several times.

Her name was in cursive in the front and she tilted her head curiously. Theresa debated if she should unfold it and see what was there. She looked around herself, getting an eerie feeling that this note held something that she really didn't want to happen. Theresa cursed her curious mind as she unfolded the parchment. She soon found that she was right.

_My Dearest Theresa,_

_Roses are red, violets are blue, it's just so sweet the surprise I have for you. When the clock strikes seven and the night sky is at its best, princess, walk down the foyer stairs to find an eager prince waiting for you. I'm bad at poetry and I do not have a game in the rhyming play, but what I do have is reservations at the La Belle Dame and I need a lady to come with me. I hope to see you soon, my dear, and soon I would have to wait. Impatient I am, so hurry up. Look your best._

_Love your dearest,_

_Henri_

_P.S. You look your best all the time, so I shouldn't ask of it with you._

Theresa stood there looking at the graceful cursive and the time and care that he had put into this note. Something stirred in her stomach, she didn't know what the feeling was, but it made her nervous. She never felt such what she was feeling then, but what she did feel that was familiar was that her face becoming hot by the minute. She shook her head, taking the note in her hand and ripping it in half. "Il bastardo mi lusinga," muttered Theresa under her breath as she placed the rip note on the near table.

She walked over to the closet, knowing how long she was going to take getting ready and how long it was going to pick a dress.

* * *

Henri paced back and forth on the tiled floor in the foyer. His body was stiff, but his back was slouched as he held his hands behind him. He stopped, looked up at the top, she wasn't there. He took out his pocket watch that was in his jacket to see that it was exactly seven.

Where was she?

He looked away and continued to pace back and forth, he was nervous. Henri was nervous. It was a new feeling that he really hadn't felt before and it was strange that it came now above any other time. A minute passed, then two minutes passed, and then three minutes passed. His patience just kept lowering

Finally, Henri just stopped pacing in the middle and walked over to the railing. He looked absently to the side at the manager's office. He couldn't say that he wasn't worried that she wasn't going to come. Maybe he went all about this wrong... or maybe she didn't notice the note... No, of course she noticed it. Now he was just being ridiculous.

Then he heard someone clear their throat and he looked over to only get his eyes widened. He tried so hard not to gape, but it was just so hard to not. He gulped, murmuring breathlessly, "Theresa."

When she heard her name, her smile had fallen and her grip on the railing tightened on the railing. "I'm sorry," she looked down at herself, she wasn't sure if she dressed right. She never went out to dinner... well a formal one. Henri furrowed his brow to her confused about what she would be sorry _for_. Theresa shook her head when she looked up at him, "I... hope this is appropriate to wear out."

"Sorry?" He repeated questionably. He chuckled, there was nothing to be sorry about. She looked absolutely gorgeous. If there was someone to be sorry it would be him for staring and gaping at her. "Nothing to be sorry about, my lady," he went up the stairs to her slowly. Theresa's eyes smiled as her lips curved into one. Henri held out his hand to her, "I'm dressed just as formal. It would be an honour taking you out in this." He smiled charmingly at her as she slowly took his hand.

Henri brought it to his lips and kissed the knuckles on that hand before actually placing it for her on the crook of his arm. "I have a carriage out in the stables getting ready, my lady," he informed, never taking her eyes off of her as they both descended the stairs. "The restaurant isn't that far away though. We could always walk if you want."

"The carriage is fine, Henri." She replied quickly, in his grey-blue eyes she could see how nervous he was about this. When he placed her hand on the crook of his arm, she felt it become stiff and tense. Henri nodded to her and then looked forward, suddenly frozen in his spot. His eyes widening in horror as a couple walked into the _Opera Populaire_ with smiles on their faces. The woman had a genuine smile and the man's smile was something that one should never trust. Theresa looked over at Henri, stopping abruptly was a surprise.

She almost had fallen on top of him. Theresa questioned, "Henri? What's the matter?"

Henri didn't answer, he only looked over at her. Shocked and speechless beyond belief. Theresa never thought that this man would be at a lost for words until then. The woman spoke out, "Henri, you're not going to greet us?" Henri faced her and gently moved his arm forward to make Theresa move along with him again.

"I..." he trailed off. He didn't know what to say to see his mother and... _step-_father come in. Jeanine and Edmond D'Aubigne were standing there, watching Henri walk down the stairs. He finally asked instead of greeting them politely, "What are you doing here?"

Edmond chuckled with a sting of venom. Henri loathed that chuckle since the day of their marriage. His lips curled into a slight sneer when he spoke, "And that is how the man greets us? Like we aren't his family at all? _Son_," when Henri was walking toward them with a very confused Theresa, he patted his shoulder. Henri tried not to glare. Edmond continued, "it's not wrong for your father and mother wanting to see you."

"Oh, you must be his parents," Theresa stated, no longer in her confused stupor. The two looked over at her confused as she held out her hand for them to shake, "I'm Theresa Baccelli, pleasure to meet you."

"Henri, this woman is beautiful," Edmond stated, sending a look to him before looking back at her as he grabbed her hand. "Pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle. I detect an accent, Italian?" Theresa nodded and let go of his hand. "Edmond D'Aubigne, signora, and this is," he gestured to his wife, "Jeanine, my wife."

"Pleasure to meet you, madame." She curtsied, earning a small bow of the head from her. Theresa looked to Henri, now he looked even more nervous to see them and her in the same room. Why would he? It wasn't that bad.

"Same to you," her voice was delicate and motherly. She wasn't Theresa's mother and yet her voice was soothing to her ears. Jeanine studied her for a moment, "Wait a minute, I saw your poster outside with our Henri," Henri almost scowled at _our_; he wasn't _his_ Henri. Theresa nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going, but she decided to nod nevertheless. "Pleasure to meet you indeed! We meant to see the opera yesterday, but other affairs had gotten in the way."

Theresa went to reply to her, but Henri next to her interrupted her, "You still hadn't answered my question."

"Do we need to answer it?" Edmond asked curiously. Henri narrowed his eyes at him. He only just wanted to get out of here with Theresa, not be here dealing with _him_ and his mother. Henri waited all night to do this and they weren't going to ruin it. He nodded to him. Edmond sighed before looking between them and stated, "Well, we wanted to see you. Your mother has begged me for days."

"Really?" Henri asked, no hope in his voice at all. Theresa looked over at him shocked by his tone, what was wrong with them seeing him? "You wanted to see me too? I highly doubt that, _father_."

Edmond visibly stiffened next to Jeanine, but she placed a hand on top of his to stop before whatever was going to happen would start. "Now, Henri," his mother started, her voice with an edge that was subtle and yet firm. "We don't need to start anything what was left unfinished. We wanted to see you because we missed you, that was all. We hadn't seen you for four years, so we only wanted to see you."

Henri stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Theresa felt uncomfortable between the the three of them. She didn't feel welcomed in this business at all. Why was there so much tension that was in the room now? It was so sudden that it gave her chills up and down her spine. Henri nodded, "Well, you caught me at a bad time then." He looked at Theresa before looking at his mother. "Signora Baccelli and I were just about to leave for dinner."

"Oh," his mother's 'oh' seemed dismayed. She clearly wasn't expecting this. Henri nodded slowly. Jeanine's grey-blue eyes looked between them unsure of what to say. Now Theresa knew where Henri had gotten those mesmerizing orbs. Jeanine told him, "We wanted to take you tonight to dinner, but if—."

Edmond cut her off, his eyes seemed to get a dark look to them. "We could still take him, my love." Henri snapped to attention, he didn't bother hiding his agitated expression in front of Edmond. "And we'll take the signora also. I'm sure that they wouldn't mind at all, we did come from great ways to be with him tonight." Henri gawked at what was happening right now. Theresa didn't know what to say at all to this as Edmond looked over to her like she could have input on it. "What would you think of that, signora? I'm sure Jeanine and I would love getting to know you."

Theresa opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn't. Nothing came out. Jeanine looked between her and Henri, then to Edmond. She shook her head, "I don't know, Edmond. I would think Henri and Theresa would like to be alone."

"Nonsense, I would think that they wouldn't mind. We did come from a great way and to come here for a waste wouldn't at all be good." Henri pursed his lips, his lips threatening to curl into a scowl. No, Edmond wasn't going to ruin this. He knew that look in his eye all too well and it wasn't happening! Theresa was caught off guard when Edmond turned to her again, "Don't you agree, Theresa?"

Theresa went to reply, "Well, I—."

"The reservation is for two people," Henri said quickly to them. Theresa looked over at him abruptly, she was starting to get irritated by him since she kept getting interrupted by him. Henri didn't realize her scorching glare that was burning a hole into him, or starting to, "Two people. That would mean, one and another. Not one and another plus two."

His son had arrogance in the tone of his voice. Edmond breathed in, this wasn't something that he missed when he was home. He stated to him, "Well, I'm sure the restaurant could fit two more people on that reservation, Henri."

"They might not be so courteous. We are already late and we are going to be even more late, I'm sure, if you keep us held up."

"Henri." Theresa warned, earning only a glance her way. Before Henri could continue acting like he was a child, Theresa talked to him as if he was one, "No need to be so rash about this."

"She's right, Henri," Edmond told him. It was like he enjoyed to make Henri's patience go even lower and make him peeved off. "No need to be rash at all. We have reservations at a restaurant as well for you, so one more person would be better than adding two more."

"It's not only the reservations that are the problem," he started again. His voice getting more and more irritated as he continued, "I also have a carriage waiting for us at the stables. For _two_ people. It would be more expensive to put two more people in it."

"You could go in our personal carriage, problem solved." Edmond stated to them. Theresa and Jeanine looked at each other. They were both clueless if they should go into it before a war would break out before them. Henri shook his head stubbornly. Jeanine sighed before giving a hopeful look to Theresa. The look in her eyes told Theresa what she must do. It was as if they said to her, 'Talk to him for us.'

Theresa looked over at him and put a hand on his shoulder before he could continue on with going back and forth, "Henri—."

He ignored her, "I can't just cancel it, I already _paid_ for it."

Theresa gritted her teeth and through them she tried again, "Henri—."

"Not only that," he ignored her again, still ranting. "But since _I_ paid for it, it would be a waste. And I earned it, so I'm not—."

Theresa snapped, "Henri!" The patience that was now teeming with her made her voice so loud that people who were passing by stopped to watch. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him as Henri abruptly was pulled out of whatever he was arguing about to look at her. His face was twisted with both shock and disbelief. Theresa added to him, "Henri, stop acting like a child." She paused looking at the two people with an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, excuse us for a moment." Edmond nodded to her curtly as Theresa roughly led Henri to the side.

Far to the side, too, behind a pillar. Henri surprisingly let her as he let his body go into a sudden sulk. Theresa rubbed her forehead, feeling her head suddenly ache as she had let go of him. "Henri, I think we should let them come with us or go with them," she stated, looking at him. He suddenly was stiff as a board as he looked down at her. The glare she was under by him was ignored by her. "It doesn't look like we could do anything other."

"We're not," he stated stubbornly. "I don't care how far they travelled, I don't care about why they are here, I just don't care. I have plans already and I'm not ruining them because of them."

"But I don't mind, Henri. I don't see the problem with them coming with us," said by Theresa. She put her hands on her hips as she looked at him irritated.

"No." He said to her even more firm. "Theresa, I've made this reservation a while ago for us. I am not letting them ruin it for _us_."

"Then we can add them on. Henri, there are going to be plenty of other nights to do this." Henri shook his head. Theresa didn't know if she could get through to him. Unless... "Henri, please," she grabbed both of his hands with hers and he looked into her eyes, "will you do this for me at least?" Henri hovered over her like he was waiting for something else that she should add. Theresa took a sigh and leaned up, removing her hands from his and placing a tentative kiss on the corner of his mouth. The slight touch made Henri's eyes widen slightly not really expecting it.

"That's not going to work, my lady," he stated his eyes looking at hers with a slight curious mischief sparking in his eyes. Theresa chuckled, but shook her head no causing Henri to frown. He muttered annoyed, "Minx."

"Am not," Theresa said defensively, taking a step back from him. Henri narrowed his eyes at her. She added, "Make it an exception this time, please?" Henri looked at her for a moment, frowning. Then he glanced at Edmond and his mother. Theresa looked at him hopeful before he rolled his eyes at her, offering his arm to her.

He flashed a fake smile to her as she placed her hand on his arm, a genuine smile crossed on her face. He stated to her, "I better not regret this later on, my dear."

* * *

Erik watched from afar, unsure of how to react. He watched there seeing Theresa and Henri walk out of the _Opera Populaire_ together with another couple. Then he soon walked slowly away from them and to a passageway through the catacombs. Erik found himself without, realizing it, walking toward the Prima Donna's room. When he was faced with the dark setting that everything was without a single candle lit, he slowly opened up the mirror, taking a careful step out to survey the room in the dark. He smelled a sweet scent burn through the air and he manoeuvred easily through it seeing the only bright thing. It seemed bright to him.

He narrowed his eyes curiously at the black ribbon tied around the bedpost with a tender knot. He felt it in between his fingers, the black silk against his glove. Erik's green eyes roamed to the book on her bed, still opened upside down as if to hold her place. Erik looked at it for a long moment, before picking up the white rose that he had left for her the night before that was left on top of her bed. Why was it there?

His hand caressed it from the stem to the petals. The soft petals from the rose seemed to sting him through the glove like it poisoned him. And just from that, he dropped it as if it had and his lips parted in disbelief. Erik took several steps backward to the mirror, his eyes bewildered. He shook his head no, he just realized what he was starting again. _History repeats itself..._ the words went through his mind. History couldn't repeat itself. He was _not_ going to go through this again. She was _not_ his Christine nor would she ever be.

Erik didn't realize how far he backed up until he had hit the mirror clumsily. He straightened himself up as he took his cloak into his hand. What had brought him to bring that rose to her again? What was the _reason_? He begged to know, but he couldn't find any explanation in his mind! It was starting to drive him mad. Erik gulped as he went back behind the mirror with an almost silent flap of his cape.

* * *

_**Thank you so much for reading! Later I'll post the character bios about Theresa and Henri because for some reason they are not on my Facebook page, and also I will post the face characters of all characters in the story. I only found a good face for Theresa, and that's about it. If you haven't liked it, please do :) I really like to talk with my fans on there. See you all next chapter!**_

_**~Tiana xoxo**_


	9. Midnight Wanderers

_**So because I took a day off from school today before the winter break, I decided to take the time to edit this chapter and update this story today! Thank you to the feedback I've received, it always makes me smile to see people reading the revised story! :) Hope you all enjoy the chapter and I hope you have a good holiday!**_

* * *

_Chapter IX: Midnight Wanderers _

"Now, tell me, signora," Theresa looked up from her glass of wine to see Edmond talking with her. The tension seemed to intensify in the air between the four people. Or rather... three people, Henri still wore a pout as he looked in his glass of wine, wishing that it was something stronger. They all had been silent until this point. From the carriage ride to the restaurant, and now until they ordered their food, they had been silent. Jeanine and Theresa were across each other, unsure of how to take this silence any longer. The tension was starting to get too much as well. She sipped before he continued, putting it down on the white table cloth. He continued, "Why leave a beautiful country like Italy to go to France?"

"Father," Henri warned, he knew the reason of why he was prying. Theresa looked over at him abruptly. "That's a bit personal, don't you think?"

Edmond laughed loudly as he took a drink out of his own glass. He got something stronger than wine, scotch, Theresa believed. Henri wanted a drink of that sort, too, but Edmond objected to that when they ordered. He stated, "I'm only starting conversation with her, son," every time he would say 'son' Henri gritted his teeth like he was insulted by it. "I'm making more conversation than you are."

Henri rolled his eyes, going for his wine while muttering, "Well, I would be if you weren't—."

Theresa nudged his arm, "Henri, stop it." Now, also, she was getting tired of his remarks to them. The night wasn't going to go well at all. Her and Henri both felt it the moment they took a step in that carriage. She looked to Edmond who seemed to have an amused glint in his eye, "Well, my father died when I was younger and my mother trained me to sing before she died eleven years later. I needed to get away from Italy, I had no close family around me and I wanted to just get away from there for a while."

"Ah, I see," Edmond hummed, taking another drink out of his scotch. "Would you ever go back to Italy, Signora?"

Theresa thought for a moment before she answered. She really never thought anything about that. "Maybe when the time is right. It is my home country—well, where I am from—so I should go back to Italy sometime."

He then went to inquire, "Now, your parents." Theresa didn't know what was going to come out of the man's mouth, but he only asked one question and it seemed like she was being interrogated! "What did they do for a living?"

"Now, that's a little bit bold, father." Henri stated to him.

Edmond only shrugged after his rude question. "It's her decision to answer it, if it's too bold for her to answer then she doesn't have to answer. Henri, am I to suspect that you answer for the girl now? Your mind is not hers, boy." Theresa looked over at Henri before reaching for his hand underneath the table. When she found it, she gripped it gently within hers, earning from him a questionable gaze at her.

Theresa ignored it and answered his father. Though the question was bold, she was going to answer it anyway. "Well, both my father and my mother worked as musicians. My father was a pianist, a talented one at that, and my mother was a Prima Dona herself in Venice. After my father, died we moved to Naples."

"Ah, interesting. Do you know how to play the piano?" Theresa nodded slowly. She didn't think it was a hard instrument if you had a sense of notes and melodies. Theresa played with one hand for the longest time, not knowing the chords well enough to even try to play them along _with_ the melodies. He chuckled lightly, "Now, tell me which do you like better, singing or piano? I'm sure your parents must have had a war with your talents, mademoiselle."

Theresa chuckled back, but she felt her chest grow tight as her body became more stiff. She didn't want to dwell on this subject for long. "I like them both equally. As you know I sing most of the time, but I have more urges to play also and I don't usually do that. And you're right. They did have a war."

"Well, it is always good to hear that someone keeps to the business their family embarks first on," he looked over at Henri as Henri's face fell. He squeezed Theresa's hand tighter when those words escaped from his step-father's mouth. Henri didn't look comfortable now being across from Edmond's scathing glare. However, he still wore a grin. Edmond went to his drink once again, Jeanine still not saying a word, but her eyes watched him cautiously as he took another sip out of his scotch. He then asked him, like he would know all about this topic, "Isn't it, Henri?"

Henri gritted his teeth, his body becoming more stiff as he straightened his back. He couldn't wait for this dinner to be over. He answered curtly, "Of course."

"Oh, but you wouldn't know any of that," Edmond stated to him like he didn't answer him before. Theresa could feel the tension thicken and her face fell as she went to take a sip out of her wine. A careful sip. She was about to down every bit of the drink down her throat since she knew she was going to need it. Edmond explained to her, "I wanted Henri to go into the trading business that have been in my family for generations. How we gotten our wealth over the past years. He would have had to, I only have two other daughters and a very incompetent brother.

"But... instead, he thought that parading with performers," he sent a nasty glare to Henri before continuing, "was better. Despite what I kept telling him."

Theresa was stunned, she didn't know what to say at all. Speechless, she locked eyes with Jeanine who sat across from her. Jeanine still didn't say a word, she looked away from Theresa and didn't at all look in her son's direction. Henri took a long moment, the air was suddenly thick and it filled every inch between the four people with an uncertain tension. Then a waiter came carrying a tray with four meals. Henri looked over at him with a fake smile. He secretly thanked the waiter for his timing. Awkwardly he said, "Oh, great, food."

Theresa flashed a fake smile seeing her petite plate of food being placed in front of her. She smelled the aroma of the roasted chicken fill her nose pleasantly. _Just a little more before you could go home_, she told herself. Theresa almost smiled, but the fact of what was said just before bothered her a great deal. She looked to Henri, she didn't know if it was a great idea, but since his mother wasn't doing anything she thought that she might as well.

Theresa stated, trying not to show her reluctance, "Well, Henri and I have worked together for two months, at the very least. And we hadn't talked since a month ago, but I assure you, Monsieur D'Aubigne, he is also incompetent. Trust me, he would never make a good owner of a trading company. He would mess it up right away!" Henri looked over at her in disbelief. Where was she going with this?

Theresa added, ignoring his look, "I think he made a splendid choice. You should be proud that he's not at a street corner. Although, I am sure that I would've done music if my mother's death hadn't happened, it was, and still is, what I wanted to do, but... Henri is a different case. And he's talented, too. It shows in his voice and he is a terrific dancer. So, he made the right choice, not the wrong." Henri's lips pulled into a smirk as she squeezed his hand more tighter than he had before. Theresa didn't look back at him as Edmond gawked at her.

Theresa took a small sip out of her wine. Jeanine looked over at Theresa and Henri, she finally said the first few words when she realized that Henri was eating with his left hand. "Henri, dear, I thought you were right-handed? Why are you eating with your left hand?"

Henri's eyebrows raised for a moment, looking back at his mother confused. Then he looked down at Theresa's hand and his that were still held between them. He didn't want to let go for a single moment. But he did, chuckling, "Oh, silly me," there was the Henri that Theresa knew, he came back. Theresa tried not to laugh as she brought her hand back to her side. "Thank you for reminding me of that, mother, I forgot for a moment."

Theresa brought down her glass of wine and then picked up both her knife and fork to get ready to eat. Then she realized that Edmond hadn't looked at nor touched his food yet. Theresa gave a crooked grin, gesturing over to Edmond, "Now, Monsieur D'Aubigne, shall we eat? I am curious about the business that Henri hadn't taken part in that you decide to bring up. So, please. Do tell."

* * *

"Did you see his face?" Henri laughed loudly as they approached the Prima Donna's room. Theresa hadn't stopped smiling since she entered the building. How Edmond acted after she had defended Henri was priceless! Dinner wasn't as grueling any more and she swore he must have gone through four glasses of scotch since they all started eating. Theresa nodded, trying not to laugh through her close-mouthed smile. Henri shook his head in disbelief and continued excitedly, "He was beyond insulted like you just spat on him! It was great!"

Theresa stated to him, fumbling in her small purse for her key, "He would have warranted it. I don't think I've ever met such an infuriating man. I thought you were infuriating and arrogant, but Dio mio! He's worse!"

"I know. Tell me about it, I lived with that _thing_," said Henri, leaning against the frame of the door. Then he caught something that she had said before, a dismayed expression showing. "Wait, you think that I'm infuriating and arrogant?" Theresa chuckled nodding. He feigned a gasp, "My life mission is complete. Making a beautiful woman like you, my lady, think that I am infuriating. I like the sound of that. I'm taking it as a compliment."

Theresa finally took out her key and then she put it into the lock. "Of course you would," started Theresa. As she went to turn the doorknob, she felt a hand go over hers to help her. Theresa gulped, looking over at him in disbelief. She stated to him, "I am not five, monsieur, I believe I can unlock the door by myself."

"I doubt that your small mind can comprehend turning it then," he retorted, his suggestive tone making it to Theresa's ears. She smirked, when she first met him she would've fell so easily by this ploy, but now, she felt herself educated in the ways of Henri D'Aubigne.

Theresa looked down for a moment, her smirk falling. "You know what?"

"What?"

"As surprising as it might sound," Theresa started, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She slowly looked up at him, taking the actress side in her suddenly. Her lips slowly curved into a lopsided grin as she stated to him in fake excitement, "My small mind actually can comprehend turning the small round thing that is called a doorknob. Wow," she looked at it in disbelief then back at his narrowing eyes, "any housewife, maid, and lady, will look up to me like I'm a Goddess on a pedestal. Amazing." She turned the doorknob to open the door as Henri removed his hand and kicked it softly with her foot.

Theresa did have more than one glass of wine, she had to admit that now it finally went to her head. Henri chuckled to her, "And here I am thinking that you couldn't, silly me."

"Silly you is right." Theresa stated, going into her room, but Henri grabbed her wrist to bring her back outside. Theresa looked into his grayish blue eyes, unsure of what they were telling her. "What is it?"

"Just wanted to say thank you," he told her with a sincere smile. Theresa smiled sweetly and nodded her head. Henri added on, "Seriously, I don't think that I would have survived tonight without you. The dinner didn't go exactly horrible like I thought it would be. It was a good surprise seeing my step-father flustered like that."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow morning if I'm up on time." Theresa went to go back inside, but her wrist still wasn't let go by him. She turned to look at him with her eyebrows furrowed confused. "Henri?" He didn't answer, instead he leaned toward her lips and before Theresa could move away from him, his pressed onto hers gently. His lips were soft and Theresa actually found herself kissing back, her lips becoming less stiff as Henri moved his against hers.

Then the kiss ended when Theresa didn't want it to. Henri moved his off of hers and Theresa kept her eyes closed as she felt Henri lean his forehead against hers for a moment. "I'll make this dinner up to you soon, okay?" His breath hit her lightly when he whispered into it then he started to slowly move away from her.

Theresa slowly opened her eyes with an almost dazed look on her face, seeing Henri smile at her charmingly while he still held her hand. Henri let her hand slip out of his slowly, muttering, "Goodnight, my lady." Theresa stood there for a moment as she watched him turn on his heel and leave her there. She was going over what had just happened, but for now, but she decided to wait on contemplating.

Theresa walked into her room, putting her purse down at the nearest table before shutting the door behind her. Something was different. Theresa's eyes roamed around the room as she looked to see if anything was out of place or out of the ordinary. Her eyes stopped at the white rose that was on the floor.

Theresa pursed her lips, now she didn't think anything of it. It was very likely that it dropped. She walked over to it and picked it up. She put it by her nose to smell the sweet odor it gave and smiled softly. Theresa placed the rose back on top of her bed and went to pick up her frock that was still folded on top of her chair to put it on behind the screen.

For two more hours she stayed in her room and those two hours were very uneventful like the rest of her day before dinner. Theresa picked up where she was in her book, but she found reading wasn't what she wanted to do at that time. Her fingers itched and cramped as she looked through her trunk, picking through pieces of music and arias. Theresa found herself holding the two piano scores that she wanted to play the night before. She wasn't too tired like she was before. The temptation was making her chest feel tight so she decided with the only choice.

The hallway was soundless as she stepped out. Theresa didn't realize that it was actually midnight and most would be asleep. She knew the ballerinas were to do their morning stretches and warmups tomorrow. They always trained it seemed. Theresa, like many other times, thanked God for his graciousness for not planning her into going into the corps de ballet. She wasn't a fit dancer, nor would she ever be. There was a reason they invented ballet shoes, for those that could stand on the tips of their toes and count to ten.

Theresa did however almost went on her toes as she walked. She didn't want to make any sounds as she sneaked around the _Opera Populaire _to not be sent off back to bed. Her music was hugged to her chest like there was someone around that would take it from her. Theresa's eyes strained through the dark, she should've brought a candle. A candle would help so much.

Theresa thought she felt a pair of eyes following her, but whenever she would look around she wouldn't see any one. She only figured that she was being paranoid. Yes, she was being paranoid. It _was_ midnight, actually it might've been later than midnight.

It was a relief when she had found the practice room. She sighed, sending careful glances around her to make sure once again to see people _were _watching her every move. Theresa then went inside quietly and shut the door behind her. The window shown the moonlight onto the piano, a great mahogany piano with eighty-eight keys. The bench was pulled out already for her to sit down on it and uncover the grand keys of white and black. Theresa softly smiled, not bother lighting the candle that was near. The moonlight was all the light she needed.

She placed the music on the stand as she sat down onto the bench. She placed her fingers on the appropriate key and started to warm up. Scales. She hated them since her father started to teach her them.

"_No, no, no, no," her father stated strictly but gently. Theresa looked up at him abruptly, she was six years old at this time. Her brown hair curled at her shoulders with her hazel eyes already having so much depth. "B natural, not B flat. B natural."_

The C scale was the easiest. You only had to go up and down, which she could do in her sleep. The D scale, the A scale, and the E scale were the hardest for her to grab. Anything that had to deal with flats and sharps were hard, those nasty black keys would have been the death of her. Theresa, then, liked singing better. It was easier.

Her fingers cramped as she played. She cursed, shaking her head, looking toward the moon as if it was speaking to her. It was like Theresa saw her father's face looking at her a bit disappointed. It was years since she played, believe it or not. Theresa said to the moon, her father's brown eyes digging into her like she had done wrong, "Father, sorry but I had other obligations to take care of before I would play. Important ones. We all can't get what we want."

Theresa put her hands together and cracked her knuckles, a horrible habit that it seemed all the players had. The crack of her knuckles filled the small room. Then she rolled her shoulders back, hearing them crack. Her whole body was tight, sometimes that could be a problem. She didn't have a doubt in her mind that it was from how she slept the night before in that chair in her room. Then she played a simple melody slowly to regain her ability.

"_A foolish girl like you would play in the dead of night, mademoiselle."_ Theresa stopped abruptly, slipping her fingers off the keys and immediately looking around her. He wasn't here was he? She would've noticed him, she thought, in the shadows if he were there. She only met him the other day and already his voice was mocking her in her head. She was beginning to think that she was going crazy and didn't at all continue playing.

Erik's voice came back, giving her chills, _"You stopped playing? Clearly your abilities aren't as bad as you make them seem."_

Theresa's eyebrows furrowed confused. She had to defend herself so that she wouldn't be sitting there and taking that! Sure, she was rusty, but she didn't think that she was bad at all. Erik was here, she knew he was here. Theresa thought though that he should dress in brighter colors so she would at least recognize him. Black was bleak and too dark to see at night. Though he was the Phantom of the Opera so it was understandable that he would choose _black_.

"Erik, where are you? Show yourself." She demanded softly, trying not to sound too forceful. If she was, it was likely that he wouldn't come out. Like a ghost.

Erik laughed, still out of the sights of Theresa, it was starting to bother her. _"Who are you to tell a Phantom what to do, Theresa? A normal person would picture you less than sane if you talk in the dark provoking a man like me."_

Theresa sighed and retorted, "I already proven myself less than sane and you are not a Phantom. You're a man pretending to be a Phantom. You can't be because you are not an apparition."

"_Maybe you are less than foolish," _he told her. Theresa looked all over. His voice at times seemed so close and at other times it seemed so far away. Right now, it seemed to be right by her ear. Theresa looked abruptly next to her to see that there was no one there. There was no one at all. It was only an empty place on the piano bench. _"I'll make a deal with you,"_ Theresa's eyebrows both perked when she heard 'deal.' _"You play something that is worth me coming in and showing myself, and your demand to see me will be granted."_ Theresa immediately looked to the door.

_Come in_, she thought to herself. He was right outside the door. Instead of going to play or start to, she got up from the bench and then walked over to the door. Theresa quickly opened it to see if he was out there but it was silent and dark. Theresa's face fell in confusion. Where in the hell was he? This was going to bother her. Then she heard his voice again. _"Are you deaf? You keep making me think you are by stalling. I'm not out there. You'll find out if I am if you play well."_

Theresa straightened her shoulders as she took a glance over to the right, no one. The voice came from the back of the room, but Theresa decided that his voice went all over. It really didn't matter where did it come from. That bothered her more than where he was. Stubbornly, Theresa took a step back, closing the door. She moved her neck, a small crack of her bone there. She seethed through her teeth as she walked slowly and cautiously over to the bench. She was waiting for him to put out his foot to trip her as a sort of jest.

She moved the skirt of her frock so she could sit on it easier. Theresa closed her eyes, placing her fingers on the right keys. Theresa actually didn't need music to guide her, she knew how to play it by heart. "As you wish, Monsieur Opera Ghost," she heard a chuckle echo in darkness that followed because of her mocking tone. Then Theresa started with the beautiful song, _A Time for Us_. It was strange playing it, it was almost like it came natural to her since she practiced this piece non stop.

"That's actually good," Erik's voice came, but this time it came from the door. Theresa turned her head to look, stumbling on the keys, messing herself up.

Theresa moved her hands off of the piano and placed them on her lap. She hated when she stumbled on the keys. Theresa told him, "Thank you. So, I see you lied to me before and that you really were outside of the door." Erik's figure came moving toward her and Theresa made sure to move more to the edge on the bench to give him room to sit. She thanked the moonlight for helping her see him. Erik furrowed his eyebrows. "You're not going to stand, are you? Sit."

Erik gave a slight puff and sat down onto the bench next to her, flapping his cape back so that it was not in the way. His handsome face that was visible was shown to her as he looked down at the keys. Then he took off his gloves, showing his bare, strong hands. They were large and they looked so soft to her. He stated to her, "It's not good to crack your bones as you play, Theresa. You should know that. You seem to have been playing for a while," his gentle, deep voice came to her and she nodded slowly.

Theresa told him, admitting, "It's a bad habit."

"Indeed," Erik placed his hands on the keys and slowly played a melody out. Theresa knew it was from memory, the music he was playing wasn't on the stand in front of him, nor was he looking up taking several glances. It was beautiful. Theresa could say that she didn't at all know the piece and it wasn't a piece her father used to play on his free time. She found herself very curious on what it was. Theresa's eyes were glued onto his fingers as they were dancing on the black and white keys.

Theresa asked him, a smile curving on her lips, "What song is this? It's beautiful."

Erik answered, never losing his focus. "It isn't yet. A melody that is stuck in my head. Had been for days."

Theresa looked up at him in disbelief, he thought this up? The song was sweet and it made her almost sway along with it. She told him, "It's beautiful. You should write it down, so you will remember it later."

Theresa saw the corner of his mouth go up in either a smirk or smile. Erik could smile? Theresa could've chuckled seeing the _Phantom of the Opera_ actually smiling. Something that she thought could never happen and she liked seeing it on his face. "Thank you, mademoiselle. I am planning on writing it down when I find a way to complete it."

"Well, I'm sure you could, it's genius." She stated. Theresa looked back down, an idea already dwelling in her head. "You know," she moved closer, Erik didn't stop playing but he looked over at her dismayed as he felt her body skimming his. Theresa continued, paying no mind about it. "If you want to complete it soon, the melody you can play could go more slower and it dims as it goes to the higher octave while you play the harmony louder and to the melody's old octave. A way to end it."

Erik pursed his lips, "How about the other way around?"

"I'm not sure. That's been done a lot, at least what I said is, in fact, different."

"Well, I am not sure if that would sound _good_ with the piece," his tone was stubborn. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him and gritted her teeth.

"I think I know what I am talking about." Theresa told him, her eyes narrowing more dangerously than ever.

Erik stopped playing abruptly and turned his head toward her. "And I think that I know _more_ on this topic than you do, mademoiselle." Theresa pursed her lips, she could tell that he was getting irritated by her, but she didn't feel intimidated.

"You should at least try it," she insisted. "If it sounds better than you're idea than you should eat those words right after."

He glared at her. Theresa still didn't feel the slightest bit intimidated by it. Did glaring at her make him think that he could scare her? Theresa backed off a bit though, knowing that this is a losing battle. "I apologize, only a suggestion, Erik. It was nothing more than an idea."

It took a long moment before his glare at her actually settled down. He sighed, "It was nice that you put in your input. So thank you... again." Theresa's smile was brought back up and she nodded appreciatively. "You were playing Romeo and Juliet, I've noticed before. Is that your favor—?"

Theresa shook her head no immediately interrupting, "Oh, no, no, no."

"No?" He asked curiously as he looked back over at her.

Theresa shook her head again. "Absolutely not. Love struck teenagers who fell in love in not even a day is completely unrealistic," she told him honestly. Theresa could admit. She never cared for either the play or the opera. Erik raised an eyebrow to her as she continued, "Shakespeare practically used the same plot that was in Cleopatra and Antony, him dying thinking that she died and then she wakes up and kills herself. Romeo and Juliet were naïve and stupid, generally. Romeo had the worst ways to getting her to love him, like the five lines he used to get her on the balcony. "

Erik looked at her in disbelief. He rolled his shoulders back as he stated to her, "You do have a point."

Theresa nodded, "The story always bothered me. Even when I read it when I was younger it bothered me." Theresa looked down to the keys then back at him. His green eyes looked her up and down, his face was very visible to her, but she did see his white mask. The mask was very extravagant. He must have enjoyed wearing it since it was the only mask that she saw him wear in the times that they had met. She told him, gulping, "You seem very acclaimed in music. Do you compose songs often, Erik?"

Theresa felt idiotic for asking him that question. Of course he was acclaimed in music! He was the Phantom of the Opera for goodness sake! Erik though didn't look at her thinking the same thing that she was. Instead he looked forward and nodded. Erik answered, "Music is indeed my life. I do live in an Opera House so I would assume that it would be safe to say that I know a lot about music and of my _own_. I enjoy composing songs, mademoiselle, I thought that was obvious."

She nodded, "It was. I don't even know why I asked it. I've heard that you even wrote an opera from the chatter I hear around here." Theresa caught Erik's glance over to her. A thought suddenly went through her head, but it was driven away when she decided to change the subject. The past would've been sensitive to him most likely, so she didn't want to press it. "Do you know this duet?"

Erik raised his eyebrow, "A duet?"

"Yes, a duet. You know, two people playing—."

"Theresa, I know what a duet is." He stated to her. "I just don't know why it's worth you bringing it up now."

Theresa shrugged, a bit dismayed. "Well," she started, unsure of how to ask him this. He probably didn't know it. Her and her father would play all the time when she was younger. She did the top part while he did the bottom and it was _cheerful_. She pursed her lips. Erik wouldn't _want_ to play that mediocre song she assumed. "You know what, never you mind. It's not that important."

"Well, you did say it, didn't you?" Erik stated. Theresa knew that he wasn't just going to let this go.

She sighed defeated, "There's this duet my father taught me before he died. We always used to play it together. It's a fun song, very cheerful; I always liked it. And... I was wondering if you would want to play it with me? You do the bottom," as she continued Erik just looked at her curiously, unsure of what to say to her. And she actually gained more confidence as she continued, "and I would do the top. It's not that hard, it's just—." Theresa interrupted herself as she started to play the bottom part of the song.

Theresa didn't know the exact name of it, she only knew how to play it. Though, she wasn't as experienced on that part. Erik watched her fingers carefully, he wasn't sure whether or not if he liked it or not. She soon smirked though once she was getting the hang of it. But he soon put a hand over hers to make her stop. "Maybe another time," he stated to her. Theresa looked down at his hand on top of hers in disbelief, his skin was actually soft like she noticed before. Erik soon took his hand away from hers though, causing Theresa's smirk to fall.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, getting up from the bench and taking the gloves off of the piano to put on. "You should be going to bed, mademoiselle." He told her sternly, but gently. Theresa just looked up at him. Erik continued, "It's late and it's wise to not be out of your room at this hour. You never know," he looked around the room, not referring to himself but other people... "who is lurking in these shadows."

Slowly Theresa nodded, understandingly, but she didn't move from her spot. "Would you like that to be repeated louder for you or are you at a loss of hearing?" He asked her, his tone seemed annoyed that she wasn't following with most of anything that he said this whole time. Theresa shook her head, coming out of it.

"I just have a question," she started slowly. Theresa had a lot of questions. She wanted to know more about what had happened about the fire. She wasn't still in the dark about it, but she wanted to hear his side. There had to be more than what she was told by Emile right? How would he react to it though? Maybe Erik wasn't ready to tell anyone of it, even though it was six years ago. _I guess, I'll find out in time_, she thought. Before she could take that back, Erik gestured for her to go ahead as he retreated toward the door.

Now she had to think of a backup question to ask of him. "How does your voice seem all around at times or really close by at others? It really is a curious thing, you know."

Erik looked at her for a moment, not believing at first that that wasn't what she wanted to ask him. But soon, he chuckled softly as his hand reached the doorknob. _"Like this?" _He said with his mouth closed and his voice at the other side of the room. Theresa turned her head toward there in disbelief then looked back at him shocked. He told her simply with a smirk, "Ventriloquism."

And before Theresa could say anything else to him he left the room without another word. Theresa stared dumbfounded at the door for a long moment.

She then cleared her throat, turned back to the piano and started to play absently. Erik waited outside in the shadows for her to come out, which wasn't until an hour later. Then he made sure that Theresa made it to her room safely, watching the corners of the halls carefully. When she stopped at her door, it was like Theresa knew he was following her. She looked around before taking out her key and unlocking it. Theresa entered her room with a soft click of her door so no one would hear.

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_**Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Next chapter, I promise there will be something that previous readers will not remember at all in it! Thank you for reading! I hope you and your family have a very Merry Christmas!**_

_**With love,**_

_**Tiana (aka Why Fireflies Flash)**_


	10. The Phantom's Show

_**Hello! I am so sorry for the late update, it really wasn't my intention. I'm not going to leave you with a long author note, because well, if I do I can go on and on, so here's the new chapter. Although it really isn't 'new,' there is a slight change to it that all Henri haters will still enjoy. And I sort of fast forwarded the story. Thank you to all the support and I hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

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_Chapter X: The Phantom's Show_

_July 9th, 1877_

The auditions were upon them, they only had a week to get prepared as well. Theresa already had performed and auditioned for the part that she wanted. And surprisingly, she was the only one that had wanted the part that she wanted. When she had finished the aria to the managers, they both stood up and applaud her. It was the only aria that she had practised for them, so she was happy that she didn't have to sing anything else. She sat down in the audience now, watching Henri try out for Ferrando. So far she could see that he was flat at some points. But she still sat there eagerly awaiting to see how he was doing.

"So can you now tell me what the title means?" Jean asked her. He should be sitting next to the managers, but they told him to sit in the back. The managers were picking out their cast based on several different things, projection was one of them. Theresa could've sworn that the dancers were gossiping when she heard them say that they must have learned before going back into the opera business. Apparently they barely knew a thing last time they managed!

Theresa looked over at him and crossed her arms, "I'm not telling you, you should be listening, not asking me questions."

"I can multi-task," Jean stated in a whisper. Theresa chuckled lightly, shaking her head before looking forward. "I don't know why you're paying attention though. You saw this already, so you know what happens. I—."

"And you read this so you should know what happens," Theresa stated amused. Didn't he read this? And the managers didn't bother telling him what the title actually meant? She chuckled light when he rolled her eyes at her and paid back attention to the stage. "And it is called that because it means, 'Thus Do All Women.' It could also be translated into the 'The School for Lovers,' but the first is a more appropriate title."

"Henri, would make a perfect Don Alfonso, don't you think?" Jean told her absently not paying attention to her at all. Theresa looked over at him with her eyebrow raised. Jean explained himself to her, "The man is so flat that he could be mistaken as an old man singing."

Theresa chuckled, nudging him to the side. "That's not nice at all. He's not even trying out for that part. He plans on being my secret fake lover, not the old manipulator who starts the whole bet."

"He should try a different part than the one he's trying to play now, obviously it's not working," Jean stated in a half-whisper. Theresa glared over at him, knowing his subtle joke immediately. She didn't have any retort to defend Henri from that and she didn't know if she could think of one so fast.

But she did try to defend him, "Oh, leave him alone. Let him try and do what he wants to do. He's doing a good job."

"I've heard that he did what he wanted to last night," Jean told her, looking over to the side and away from her and the stage. Theresa looked over at him with her brow raised confused about what he meant. "The man can barely can keep his hands to himself around other people."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Theresa asked him still confused. Jean looked over at her absently, not even realizing what he had said to her and then they heard a series of claps from the front of the stage. Both him and Theresa sat straight up like they had been paying attention and stood up, seeing the managers stand up to clap. Theresa and Jean flashed their most fake smile and clapped along with them soon after. Henri looked up for them, kissed his lips with his fingers and then waved over to Theresa, flashing his charming smirk over to her.

"Don't worry about it, Theresa, nothing for your pretty head to worry about," Jean said, looking over at her before taking his seat again. Soon Theresa followed suit, sitting next to him. She sent a glare his way to burn a hole in the side of his head with her smile falling. Why even mention it then? Before she could even open her mouth however, the managers from the front called to them both.

"Monsieur Fortescue and Signora Baccelli," André said over to them with a wide grin on his face that went from ear to ear. Their heads perked up to look over at him. André continued on once he had gotten their attention, "How does he sound? Exceptional, right?"

"A little flat!" Jean shouted to them. It was only until then Theresa realized how far back they were. Hell, they were almost sitting toward the back of the theatre! Both Firmin and André seemed to frown at the sound of that. The two looked at each other with their brows furrowed confused and on stage Henri narrowed his eyes at Jean spitefully. Jean looked over at Henri smirked his way, mocking his wave back to him that he gave to Theresa. The two since they had met had never liked each other.

Theresa rolled her eyes and nudged Jean next to her before correcting that for the managers, "He was only jesting! Monsieur D'Aubigne was not flat at all. He did very well." She sent a glare over to Jean before smiling warmly over to Henri. Jean's jaw tensed next to her and he nudged her elbow to wipe it off. Theresa dropped her smile and sat back in her chair before flattening the bottom of her dress. "I don't understand your distaste of him, Jean. He's a kind—."

"Kind? I can't remember any time that he had done something kind for me," Jean stated to her with a soft scoff. "Besides that, the man is so egotistic. I don't even know what you see in him."

"I am _not_ interested in him like that, Jean." Theresa said to him sharply. Jean scoffed quietly again and flashed an amused smirk at her, though his eyes were worried for her. Jean didn't want to tell her what he had seen of Henri the last few days, but it was almost slipping down his tongue. Theresa had become like a sister to him and a close one, too. Her and Meg... if he even considered Meg a sister. He didn't know what to make of her yet. But these particular days showed Jean that Henri was not at all what he seemed. He was a talented drunk. If he could even say that he was talented, that is.

Jean muttered to her, "That's funny, because I hadn't even said that you_ were_." Theresa sighed and crossed her arms over her chest as she proceeded to watch Henri continue with his auditions. Now it was time for the lines of the role that he would want. Was she interested in Henri? She couldn't tell, since dinner he had become even more arrogant and infuriating, so much more that he couldn't even describe. "So that would mean that you clearly are."

Theresa almost had forgotten that she was sitting next to Jean. "Shut it, _Gaston. _Before I make you."

"That just shows that it's true," he insisted. Jean sighed and he scooted closer to her in the room that he had in his chair. "Listen, if you are interested in him," he started, this time in a more serious tone. The tone caused Theresa to look over at him confused of what he was about to say, "just be careful. I've seen things of what he does around this Opera House, things that he shouldn't be doing. And I don't want you involved in that."

Theresa looked at him for a moment, searching his eyes for a clearer meaning. "J-Jean," she stammered confused, "I don't see what you mean by that."

"Theresa, just be careful. He's clearly interested in you, but I doubt that it's in a good way," Jean told her. Theresa's shoulders slumped and she continued to look at him, trying to comprehend what he had told her. Did—no, that couldn't be what he had meant. Jean thought that Henri was only interested in her for the... No! He only took her out to dinner several times over the past month and he had talked to her and charmed her several times without suggesting any sort of... she couldn't even think of it. She was so appalled that Jean would even say such a thing to her or think such a thing.

Theresa tried to say evenly through the insult that was running through her, "Jean, he never suggested any of that to me so far. You barely even know him well enough to say that about him. Poor man isn't here to defend himself."

"I know his type well enough though," Jean told her, "and they are all the same. Theresa, I don't want to see you get hurt by him, that's all. You know that you are like a sibling to me, so I don't want to see you like that because of that drunken, daft idiot over there."

"And you are one to talk?" Theresa inquired to him annoyed. Jean faltered back and looked at her uncertain as he saw her hazel eyes blaze angrily for talking like the way he had. Theresa continued, "You are marrying a woman that you don't love and flirting with a ballet girl who is interested in you, very much interested." Jean looked at her even more confused and Theresa just realized what she had just said. She refrained from clamping a hand over her mouth and her eyes to widen that she revealed Meg's secret to her. She gulped nonchalantly and never had let her face fall. "You're the last person who should be giving me advice."

She moved to the next seat to get away from him and she sat down, letting her face fall for what she had told him. Theresa really didn't mean to tell him that, not at all. She just hoped that Jean didn't have a big mouth and then Meg would find out. Jean cast his eyes downward, and then moved to the seat next to her. There was a silence between them for a while and all they heard then was the spoken lines exchanged between Henri and Josef on stage before them. Now the two of them really weren't paying attention like they were supposed to.

It was a long silence, too. Theresa didn't dare look at him and now her eyes were cast to the side and onto the theatre's red floor. Jean gathered the words in his head and thought them out before speaking. "You're right, advice is the last thing you need from me," he told her. Theresa was still looking away from him, not acknowledging him. Jean sighed, "And if—Meg is different, you know that."

Theresa snickered next to him, though her mood was slightly foul, "I didn't say that it's Meg."

Jean glared at her before chuckling lightly next to her. Then he continued, "I just wish things were different. I am sorry for what I've said before, it was out of line. I didn't realize what I was saying before actually saying it. I'm only trying to protect you, that's all. The last thing I would want is for you to get hurt by that rat on stage."

"I understand," she said to him, finally looking over at him. "And I know about him being a drunk. It's actually obvious." Jean looked at her for a moment, before looking forward, something in his eyes told her that there was something more that she didn't know. She didn't press it on. "And if you tell Meg about me telling her that she is interested in you, you are a dead man." She smiled softly at Meg who was looking their way on the stage. Meg smiled back, but it wasn't just Theresa that she was smiling at.

Jean smiled and nodded over at her, "Only if you don't tell her that I'm interested in her."

"Agreed," Theresa said with a smirk, "speaking of the wicked witch, how is she?" Jean's smile fell and he looked back at Theresa. Almost narrowing his eyes at her. His jaw tensed at the mention of the woman.

"Wickeder than ever," said Jean, rolling his shoulders. Theresa almost winced hearing them crack, whenever someone other than her cracked their bones it would always give her several chills up her spine. "Don't know what my parents thought setting me to marry her."

"If you think that then why don't you talk to them," Theresa offered, looking over to him. "Don't you think that they'll at least take your opinion into—?"

He interrupted her right away, "Take this as a lesson, when you have been born into a noble family, your opinion on marriage generally doesn't matter. Besides, the wedding is in two months. We preserved the church in the beginning of September." Theresa's shoulders slumped as she frowned, she put a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring way. "She wants to get married in the _autumn_, not in the summer because that is too hot for her to deal with," he said this in a mocking feminine voice to mimic his fiancé's. Theresa actually chuckled at him.

The performers on the stage stopped while André and Firmin turned to look at them. Theresa and Jean looked to the front innocently, both smiling in unison and giving a thumbs up for them to continue. "Very good!" Jean stated, acting like he was paying attention. He was going to be sure that the part of Don Alfonso would go to Henri after this would be over without the permission of Theresa.

"We don't want any more chatter from you two, auditions are still going on!" Reyer cried from next to Firmin and André. Theresa nodded to him and tried to suppress her laughter. Then within a moment, they proceeded with the audition.

Theresa looked back to Jean, her voice softer, "Then that doesn't give you much time to talk to them, does it?"

Jean glared at her and sat back in his chair, "My parents are thick-headed. I highly doubt that they will agree to it."

"Have you even asked yet?" inquired Theresa, furrowing her brow toward him. Jean sighed and shook his head no, "Then how would you know if you hadn't even asked."

"Well, I—."

Jean was cut short by clapping from the front. Once again, they saw André and Firmin standing and applauding Henri and Josef on stage. The two of them bowed their heads at them and then Theresa and Jean exchanged a look to each other. "They must be finished," Theresa said getting up along with Jean.

Jean replied to her sarcastically, "Really? I hadn't noticed. No wonder why they're clapping." Theresa rolled her eyes before actually clapping along with them. "Very good!" Jean said, feeling the question that André was about to ask again to him. André threw a grin behind his shoulder before taking his seat again, the day was going to be long. Theresa could feel it already. Then Firmin took his seat as Theresa and Jean sat back down. "How much longer?"

"I have no idea," Theresa replied.

"Now, we ask that Mademoiselle Alaina Bellerose to take the stage," Firmin stated, looking through the paper. Theresa groaned, crossing her arms over her chest. She hated that girl and they were not many to earn that word of hate around her. Jean looked over at her.

"Does that name displease you?" He asked her amused.

"You have no idea. She's almost as wicked as your fiancé," Theresa stated to him, watching the petite woman take her place in the middle of the stage. The woman had the most perfect blonde curls and her skin was fairly paler than Theresa's. Her face was small and she had a pointed nose. She was a beautiful woman, no doubt, and she had something about her stage presence that seemed like she was a better match for it than Theresa was. "Since the day I arrived the girl didn't at all give me the time of day without saying one word to me. Always gave me the dirtiest looks whenever I passed. I don't know what her problem is, we never even spoke two words to each other. I wonder what part she's trying out for."

"Hopefully her part won't coincide with yours th—."

"I am so sorry, mademoiselle," Firmin started, cutting Jean off. "We don't seem to have the part that you're trying out for in front of us at the moment."

"Oh, that's because I didn't know until now what part I was going to try out for until now," her voice was slightly squeaky, too. In fact, it was small, too. Theresa never really heard her sing before, but she had to admit that now she was interested in how she would sound. She looked directly at Theresa when she had said this, too. "I'm trying out for the part of Fiordiligi." Theresa restrained herself to gawk at her, but she felt herself grit her teeth as she pursed her lips.

"I thought that you were the only one trying out for that part," Jean said to her. Theresa quickly shushed him. Why was she suddenly so worried? She saw a black shadow looming in Box 5 and she wondered if Erik was hiding there, watching the audition like her. She hadn't seen or heard from Erik since that night in the practise room, and since Theresa was practising for the audition for her new show with Monsieur Reyer, she hadn't made any advance to associate herself with him. It wasn't like she didn't want to though, she was only busy.

"Oh, okay," André said a bit confused by the part she was auditioning for and gestured for her to proceed. "When you are ready."

"Merci," she muttered with a nod. Monsieur Reyer walked to the piano and not sitting on its bench. She nodded over to him with a small smile for him to start playing. Theresa wished she would wipe that smile with a smack herself. The evil creature! She shouldn't worry though, the part was rightfully hers. She had the greatest feeling of that. That feeling soon faded away once Alaina opened her mouth to sing the same aria Theresa had.

"_Like a rock standing impervious  
To winds and tempest,  
So stands my heart ever strong  
In faith and love."_

Theresa's eyes widened and she gulped. Her voice definitely wasn't the small one that she had imagined and hoped it to be. No, it was strong and didn't show any trace of her squeak at all.

"_Between us we have kindled  
A flame which warms  
And consoles us,  
And death alone could  
Change my heart's devotion.  
Respect this example  
Of constancy,  
You abject creatures,  
And do not let a base of—."_

"AH!" Theresa was taken out of her shocked state to see that Henri was covered in what looked to be red paint. She gawked at him and looked around to see everyone looking up at the rafters to see who had done. Alaina looked around and moved away from her spot on stage to look at Henri who was dripping paint off his curly brown locks. Next to Theresa, Jean was trying to hold in all that he could to remain professional as Theresa stood picking up her skirts and quickly walked down the aisle to get to the stage. "The Phantom of the Opera! He's here!"

"Don't be absurd!" Exclaimed Firmin, rising up and going to the stage. Behind Theresa, Jean was holding a fist over his mouth as a way to help hold in his laughter. It wasn't working. Theresa quickly walked up the stairs as Firmin and André tried to clean up the mess. Not physically, but emotionally. "Monsieur D'Aubigne, it's probably an accident."

"An accident?" Henri looked up at them in disbelief. He said to Firmin sarcastically, "Yes, because a bucket of paint can fall on its on!"

"Well, maybe someone left it up there," Jean sniggered from behind. Theresa tossed a glare at him from behind her shoulder. That was unneeded. "At least he didn't get feathered," and right when Jean said that, feathers came down onto Henri. Both Firmin and André moved out of the way to not get touched. It was almost like Jean had planned it, in Henri's eyes. Henri looked up slowly with his nostrils flaring with anger as he looked at Jean. But now Jean really had trouble trying to hold in his laughter, which was now making him look more suspicious.

"You!" He pointed an accusing finger to Jean, whose laughs were quickly turning into cover-up coughs. "You set this up, didn't you?"

"Me?" Jean pointed to himself. Theresa only looked between them unsure of what to say. Madame Giry, who was nearby, was looking under the rafters up to see if there was any sort of shadow that would've caused this, but didn't find anything. "And how would I have done it?" Jean sounded insulted by the accusation, but he wished that he was the mastermind behind it. He climbed onto the stage and stayed a good distance away from Henri. "I was sitting and watching the auditions in the audience. How would I be able to go in the rafters and drop that onto you?"

"You could've told someone to do it!" Henri said to him.

"Now, Henri," Theresa started, reluctantly putting a hand on his paint doused shoulder. She gulped once she felt the sticky substance on her hand, some feathers were stuck on it, too. Theresa continued, "Jean would never do such a thing, that is ridiculous."

"It could've been the chief of the flies, too, he's the one up there monitoring it," André stated. He seemed the only one that was using his head. There only a couple of people that were on the stage who weren't cowering and huddling in fear. Theresa looked around, it mightn't been the chief of the flies as well. She looked to Box 5 accusingly, knowing that she saw the silhouette of Erik there before this had happened. Or did she? André cried up to the rafters, "Giles! Giles! Where are you?"

"I-I'm over here, m-monsieur," a stammer came from off stage. Almost everyone turned to face Giles, but Madame Giry and Theresa looked around for someone other than the stumpy man who walked forward. He was large around the waist and his head was clean shaven. The man was completely bald and he wasn't as dirty as the other stage hands. With a hand, he cradled the back of his head like he had been hit there and his eyes were repeatedly blinking like he had just woke up from being asleep.

"What on earth—?" Firmin walked over to him, avoiding the spilled tar and the soaked man in paint to go over to him. "Monsieur Giles," Firmin started, taking in the unusual state of the man. "What happened up there?"

"I don't—," he shook his head to get it cleared as he looked up to see Henri covered in paint. Theresa took off her hand from there as her eyes locked onto a man who was appearing toward the back of the theatre from behind a hidden door that matched the painting of the ceiling. The chandelier covered his silhouette. Theresa glared at him, hoping that he could feel her glare from the stage. Monsieur Giles continued on and Theresa looked away from Erik to hear what had happened, "I don't know... You see, I was hit in the back of me head." His speech was partly slurred from being hit there, too. "Blacked out for a couple of minutes. I don't really know what happened."

"It was the Phantom!" Paulette cried out, looking around nervously. "He's the one that had did it. His step is bared all over this!"

"You all are being absurd," Firmin stated, though it was clear that a look of worry crossed his face. Him and André put off their last letter as being a joke that one of the stage hands had done. "The Phantom is not here! He's long gone, so gone that he would never be back! The police pronounced him dead shortly after the fire, we all know that."

"Can you be so sure of that, monsieur?" Madame Giry came out from behind a crowd of people. Theresa watched her carefully and saw that she had a smirk. The old woman never seemed so amused until now. There had to be a reason for that.

André shook his head and looked away innocently, but he had stated in almost a whisper like he didn't believe himself at all. "Of course."

"You will never guess then what I have," Madame Giry stated, Theresa looked to see a note in her hand in an envelope. Maybe the Opera Ghost wasn't something that she paid mind to around the _Opera Populaire_.

Firmin groaned inaudibly with the roll of his eyes, "If it's a note, please someone hand me a dagger."

"I have a note," Giry said, gasps were heard around the theatre. The madame looked to Theresa who was staring back at her not sure why. Meg stepped forward next to Theresa. Madame Giry banged her cane against the stage to calm everyone down and then, Madame Giry slowly walked over to Theresa with the letter extended toward her. Giry looked at her with worried eyes, hoping that the reason that it was addressed to _her_ wasn't what she thought it was. "And it's addressed to you."

"This is absurd!" Henri stated, snatching the letter out of Madame Giry's hands. Giry looked over at him with her mouth parted in shock and insult. Henri's tarred hands got all over the envelope. Theresa now didn't want to even touch it. "The Phantom is dead. It's someone playing a prank."

"Monsieur D'Aubigne, I think you are the last person to even say such. You weren't here to put your input in it. And you know what the Phantom can do as well, don't you?" Madame Giry told him sternly. Henri seemed to falter a bit, his forehead creasing. Before he could even counter the ballet mistress, she snatched the letter back from him and gave it to Theresa who had taken it hesitantly, uncertain if she wanted to read it.

"Well, Theresa, herself, told me that he wasn't real any more," Henri said to her after a moment. Now the tar on him was only dripping off of him a bit and most of it dried up. Henri looked over to her as she looked down at the letter nervously, "Hadn't you, Theresa?"

She nodded slowly and looked up at both Firmin and André, "Well," she gulped, "that was only because Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin told me that he was. I didn't know it was a way to get me to stay and sing here." André and Firmin looked over at their Prima Donna and then at each other before they quickly gotten smiles on their faces. Theresa could have rolled her eyes at them and turned away before they even had a chance to grovel to her. She opened the note's seal with her finger, the tar seeped a bit under her nail.

"_Dear Signora Baccelli,  
The past gala was a charming experience for those who went. Brava. I hope you have gotten my praise after each show." _

Theresa paused, her breath caught in her throat and she looked up as she turned on her heel to see many eyes on her. She gulped before continuing.

"_Now, I want you to read this to those of the Opera Populaire so that they could get a clearer understanding of how my theatre should be run. The managers are trying their hardest, I see, but they still hadn't taken heed to my commands. My salary is overdue still from when they first paid... actually they never paid me before. André and Firmin, I am not a rumour at all, you read and saw the previous note I left to you. If you keep denying you are putting innocent lives at stake because of your stupidity and ignorance."_

Theresa paused again, feeling her heart drop at the threatening remark. She knew Erik could be like that through his few visits, but... she didn't know what to make of it. Theresa gulped again and looked around the theatre to see that Erik was no longer standing where he was. Where did he go?

"_Hopefully the new production of Cosi Fan Tutte would be just as charming as..." _

Theresa couldn't say Macbeth, so she replaced it.

"The Scottish Play, _but be warned before you begin. In your cast, I suggest that you follow these guidelines, or it would be horrible downfall from your great success. Henri D'Aubigne your lead tenor, lacks stage presence. His voice goes flat several times and his pitch doesn't match your lead soprano's. The dancers are, as usual, a lamentable mess and they are several members of the chorus that have a problem with singing in __unison__. They seem to not know what that word would mean. The lead trombone player seems to be flat many times also. Make sure he knows how to tune."_

Theresa stared at the note in disbelief and then looked up to see that a lot of people were hanging off her every word. Even Henri who was trying to look over her shoulder to read the cursive. On the note, there was something that was for her eyes only. So, she read that very quickly to herself before finishing it, _'Theresa, don't show this to anyone, meet me tonight an hour after midnight on the rooftop. There is something I must show to you.'_

"_Your Obedient Servant,  
O.G."_

Theresa finished and she looked up to see many people aghast and looking around the room and at each other. Madame Giry stood there watching Theresa as she protectively held the note close to her, just like she had done with the rose. It seemed to Madame Giry that the Phantom had not heeded her warning on opening night when she found him in his usual box. André broke the silence by his anxious laughter, "That's obviously not real, everyone."

"_Is it?" _A voice sounded through the theatre. Theresa gasped backing up, feeling Henri grab her arm. She wished that he hadn't though. Now after this, she was going to bathe to get the paint he was leaving on her off. Screams, murmurings, and gasps occurred from almost everyone. Jean looked around the theatre bewildered and suddenly the piano started to play involuntarily. No one was even touching it! It was playing by itself! Reyer jumped back away from it as he watched it play the familiar song to those who have stayed in the Opera Populaire after the fire.

"Don Juan," Meg whispered under her breath, looking around curiously for the Phantom's half mask. But she wasn't able to see it. Theresa actually noticed Meg trembling, actually there were several people trembling around her. "Theresa," she moved toward her and pulled her from Henri's sticky grasp. "This is the song from Don Juan." Theresa looked over at Meg and then her eyes were stuck onto the piano playing. "The one before the fire, before he was revealed to be the Phantom. He's here, he has to be here!"

The playing abruptly stopped and then Erik's voice echoed around the them, _"I'm here, the Phantom of the Opera."_ His voice... he was singing the words as they echoed around. The people on the stage looked around frightened with their eyes all wide, the only one who wasn't surprised was Madame Giry, whose eyes were still on Theresa sceptically and who half-expected his appearance soon. She found it strange that Theresa was barely showing fear of what was going on. _"Do you think I'm not real now, you frightened fools?"_

By fools, he was referring to André and Firmin who seemed even more frightened than any other person there. To them, they thought him still dead rather than alive, like he was an actual phantom haunting and stuck there, rather than a man who still resides there underneath. _"I'm here, __messieurs,__ and I've never left. So if my commands are NOT obeyed, then maybe you should review your decision in reconstructing the Opera Populaire from its burnt ruins. If you want to stay in denial, then leave now and stay out!"_

Theresa looked around to see his shadow anywhere, but she heard a cape flapping from the rafters and immediately she looked up to see if he was there. But... he wasn't. However, she did hear his laugh echo around her and everyone. Jean stood beside her and behind Meg, gripping her shoulders unconsciously and his eyes wandering around to see someone. He, too, hadn't seen anything. _"Beware..."_ Erik's handsome tenor voice eerily faded and wasn't the volume it was at before, it was low and mocking,_"the Phantom of the Opera, he's there inside your mind."_

Theresa stood there in her spot frozen like many others were in her spot. She knew Erik was back, but the shock that he showed his presence in there now was unexpected. She gulped, looking at Henri who was now looking around still angry, but now confused at the same time. She looked to Madame Giry and nodded to her. "Madame," she thought that she might as well take charge since no one else looked like they were going to.

Giry snapped out of her thoughts to now listen to Theresa, though she put Theresa knowing Erik personally in the back of her mind. Theresa continued, stammering although while looking composed at the same time, "T-Tell someone to draw Henri a bath. I've a feeling that he," she looked over at him and almost winced at the sight of him in the red paint and feathers. She then looked back at the only sane, or... the only sane and calm person in there that could get this simple job done. She finished, "he would need several to get that off and then may you come down here to gather the dancers?"

"Of course," Madame Giry said with a nod. She walked toward Henri, never taking her eyes off of Theresa and not even touching him anywhere and from a safe distance, she led him off the stage.

Theresa looked to the nearest people toward her, "Josef," he shook himself out of the state he was in from the Phantom. Theresa. continued, gesturing toward the floor of the stage, "get someone to clean that mess up, will you? I would hate for people to slip on the top of it."

Her reply was a nod and he went off stage right away. Soft murmurs started around the group of people and Theresa looked to Jean who was still holding Meg tenderly by the shoulders. "And Monsieur Fortescue," she said evenly and somewhat amused that she was greeted by this sight. Jean snapped out of it immediately and brushed his clothes. "Remember what I said before, do it soon before your funeral." He breathed in evenly before narrowing his eyes at her.

"I'll see you later, Miss Giry," Jean said to her with a small smile before going off stage.

"Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin," she looked back at the 'frightening fools' and saw why Erik had called them that. They were still cowering like Erik was going to pop up and scare them by only saying, 'Boo!' They would probably run away like children, or maybe just André, he looked like he would run away now. At least Firmin, with his high hair-do, looked to hold his ground before any of that. She could be wrong, too. André seemed like he wanted to say something to her, but the words didn't come out to say something. "I presume that auditions are over?"

"Oh," Firmin seemed to get his act together and over the mutterings, he addressed everyone, "A-Auditions are pushed to next week!"

"Y-Yes, they are," André added next to him. He was now hiding his face behind the handkerchief he was holding with his trembling hand. "Monsieur R-Reyer," Reyer, didn't seem as bewildered as before, looked up from the orchestra pit, "next week is good for you... please say that it is."

Reyer replied smoothly, "It is."

"Good then," Firmin looked around at everyone before actually nodding repeatedly. He didn't seem to know what else to do, other than leave. "So, I hope you all have a fine day and... goodbye." Him and André awkwardly walked away from the stage and Theresa stood there. She didn't know now what to do. She looked down at the parchment that she was holding close to her chest protectively, so no one would take it away from her.

"Come on, Theresa, there is no need for us to be here," Meg's delicate voice came to her, bringing Theresa away from her thoughts. Theresa looked over at her and smiled, but it quickly fell when she realized that Meg would be the only person that she could talk to.

"Meg, we—." Theresa was interrupted by a squeaky, small voice by her.

"Well, _Signora Baccelli_," Alaina started to her. Theresa breathed in quietly and turned on her heel. "Competition must be something that you've never had before. You should've seen their faces while I sang, they loved me, I think, don't you?"

Be nice, Theresa's mind warned. She was only doing this to intimidate her. But she really did sound good, which what worried her. The managers would have her another chance to try out, she felt, yes, they definitely would. No need to worry, she would have another chance. Theresa smiled at her, the smile could've been painted on like a clown's to hide her frown, "I think they did actually. Good luck with the part. Your chances do seem high, so you'll never know."

Alaina seemed to be ready for a fight, "Well, I'm sure your chances are high, too. Especially now, when you so ruined Henri's audition by your chatter with the patron." Theresa was tempted to smudge the somewhat painted and feathered hand she had in the woman's face, but she was happy that Meg was there to help restrain it, no matter how hard it was. "We'll see though next week at the second set of auditions. Better practice."

"Don't worry about that. Hope you have a good day," Alaina seemed dismayed by the fact that Theresa remained cordial and calm, even though a naïve part of her mind was telling her to wipe that smirk off of the girl's face. Theresa waved her kindly off as she walked away. Theresa looked over to Meg worried who shared the same look also, practically reading her thoughts already. Theresa said trailing off, "She sounds..."

Meg told her, "I know." Meg put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

Theresa sighed, "A week is not enough time, I want that part, she's not going to take Prima Donna away from me, especially since I just got it."

"Competition could be good for you then, make you work harder," Meg told her in a way of comfort. Theresa shook her head, she worked hard enough already. She looked down at the letter, wondering if he could help her. Theresa suddenly got an idea in her head, she needed to learn more about Monsieur O.G. And she knew just the woman to help her.

"I work hard enough already," she said to her. "Meg, we have to talk. Do you think that we have time?"

"It's almost lunch, actually," Meg told her with a small smile. "We could go to the café across the street if you like. I could ask maman if I could go and if I have my warm ups."

Theresa smiled at her warmly, "Sounds great, just let me," she looked down at wherever the tar was on her. The last thing she should done was touch Henri after... well that. She continued with a chuckle, "Just let me clean up before we go."

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_**Sorry for the long wait for this update, I've been busy and I really didn't know how to change chapter 10 like I was going to. So, I decided to just take out that chapter altogether and put this chapter in. Hope you enjoyed it! :) I'll try to update as soon as possible, but I have mid-terms soon so I have to focus on that. :( I changed Henri getting tarred and feathered to paint and feathered, to those who have read this story before, because I realized although entertaining for Henri haters, it's really cruel to do!**_

_**Well, I hope everyone had a good holiday! And if you haven't already, like my Facebook page :) the link is on my profile and you'll get sneak peeks of chapters, face characters, and character bios. I love connecting with my readers on there :)**_


	11. Harsh Words

_**Hello everyone! Hope you all enjoy the chapter! Won't bother you with a long author's note because I frankly don't have much to say lol. Thank you for the continued support of this fic!**_

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_Chapter XI: Harsh Words_

"He must have taken twenty baths already and yet he hadn't gotten that paint off of him still," Theresa told Meg with a chuckle, taking a seat across from her. It was rough getting the paint off the tiny spot she had gotten from helping him, it was practically stuck to her skin. Theresa visited him before leaving, feeling bad for him, but she was rushed out since he didn't want to see anyone. "Now that I think about it, it was quite funny," afterwards it was funny, she would admit. She only wished that it was _Alaina _who got painted and feathered. That would've been more enjoyable.

Meg shook her head disagreeing with Theresa. It seemed she had enough of Jean and Theresa being amused of Henri with paint and feathers all over him. "It wasn't amusing at all."

"Well, be happy that it didn't hit you then. You were right there," Theresa stated, looking over her menu. It was all in French. She was still not good at reading French, she could speak it well, she just had a hard time reading it. Chef Dupant was actually teaching her how to read French. Meg sighed exasperated and gave her friend a careful glare, but there was a smile on her face while doing so. Theresa saw a glimpse of it and flashed a crooked grin.

She wasn't that much familiar with traditional French dishes either. So she looked at the thing that was recognizable and then up at Meg, "How is their Moules Marinière? Is it big?"

Meg looked up from her menu and took a sigh, "It's good, but big. We would need to share that. I'm actually in the mood for it also, so what do you say?"

"Perfect and to start with we could get..." Theresa trailed off looking at the starter dishes. When she found it, she spoke slower than usual and strained her eyes to read it right, her pronunciation slightly off, "Lottay a L'Impertrice."

Meg giggled to herself, "You mean, Lotte a L'impératrice?" Theresa couldn't help but roll her eyes as she nodded to her. Meg shook her head, "You're in a fish mood, aren't you? I don't like that kind."

"Okay, well, what do _you_ want then, Meg?" Theresa asked her, looking over the salads and soups.

Meg hummed to herself before actually stating, "Boudin Noir aux Pommes?"

Theresa raised her eyebrow, "And what is that?"

"Black pudding with apples."

Theresa made a face, apples. She never liked them and if she did, she would like only the red, delicious kind. Plus not many people in Italy actually ate apples, or maybe that was just her family. "I'm not sure about that. What kind of apples are they?"

Meg shrugged, she never really knew. When she went out with her mother to this restaurant she would actually get this all the time, they made it extremely well here. Plus black pudding with apples was a major dish in the French community, in fact, they were always competitions between chefs that theirs would enter to win the title of the best each year. Chef Dupant never really had won before, but he always came close. And everywhere this was made different. "It's good," she assured, "I've always enjoyed it."

"All right then," Theresa said with a smile, "I would love to try it." She closed her menu and the waiter came with a bottle of wine ready, Theresa eyed it with so much desire. No, she shouldn't drink that now. But it was tempting. Meg settled with water and Theresa settled with the wine, but she swore to herself (and Meg, who knew about her small problem with wine) that she would have only one. Then they put their orders in, getting that aside.

Theresa took a small sip of her wine while looking around her carefully. She said to Meg, "Well other than that interesting paint and feather show, I can see who stole away the auditions."

Meg sighed and then inquired, "Will you stop?"

Theresa looked up at her taken aback and shrugged innocently before looking down at the table cloth. "Stop what? I have no idea what _you_ are talking about."

"Alaina is nothing to worry about," Meg said to her reassuringly, but it was hardly reassuring. She was there, she heard that voice just like Theresa had. "You'll get the part you want, not to worry. You'll just have to work harder like I have told you to do, practice harder. You have a week left to do it."

Theresa stated to her, "Well, I work hard enough already. What do you want me to do? Lock myself in my room and practice until then?"

Meg smiled warmly, "You will do fine, Theresa, I know you will. She is just a girl trying to intimidate you, and you are letting her, too. Just show her that you are not intimidated and she might back out of her audition." Theresa thought for a moment, taking in what Meg had just said to her and she soon sighed. She nodded, understanding. "Besides you're not trying out for the leading lady part. Isn't that Despina?"

Theresa pursed her lips before giving her a curt nod and taking a sip out of her wine. But that wasn't the part that she wanted to try out for because... Theresa just didn't want to. Even though she had the most arias, she just didn't... she just didn't want to. She said shortly to Meg, "Yes."

"You should try out for her rather than Fiordiligi. Let Alaina do that part, you're the Prima Donna, you should do the better role, shouldn't you?" Meg stated, taking a sip out of her water. Theresa looked to the side and there was a reason that she wasn't telling Meg. Meg could sense that there was a reason that Theresa didn't want to tell her. Theresa didn't know what she would say to said reason since it had something to do with her mother.

Theresa shook herself and looked up back at Meg with a fake smile, "I've always wanted to play her since I was younger, Meg. She is the most like me and I thought that she would be perfect." Meg pursed her lips not believing a word, thinking that this was much more deeper than that. Theresa felt that she knew by looking at her, so she hid herself behind her glass of wine, taking a longer sip. She decided that her being the topic of conversation and she changed to something more... interesting and exactly what she wanted to talk about with Meg.

"Well... whoever this Phantom is," Meg froze at the word 'Phantom' and Theresa took notice of that before she continued, "he put on quite the show during auditions..."

"He's back, Theresa," Meg said to her rather grimly. "The Phantom of the Opera," she started hushed and leaning over the table, "I... I thought he was gone. Not dead, but I thought he was gone, at the least, you see, after the fire he wasn't there, all I found was his white mask."

Theresa sighed, it was strange. Everyone that she talked to about the Phantom they said that he was either a rumour or dead, Meg was the only one that thought he was just gone, still alive, but gone. Theresa asked her, "So, what happened six years ago, actually happened? He _was_ in the opera with Miss Daae?" Meg nodded her head slowly. Theresa already knew that the managers had lied to her before, so she decided to act like she just figured it out. What would Meg say to her if she found out that she was familiar with the Phantom—Erik? "So, the managers did lie to me to have me stay."

Theresa looked toward the _Opera Populaire_ that was across the street from them, standing tall and proud, though inside Theresa could tell that many were horrified by hearing the Phantom's voice. Meg asked her curiously, "What _did_ the managers say to you?"

Theresa looked side to side and then told Meg what had happened with the first note that she received from the rafters the day André and Firmin came back to the theatre for the first time after reconstruction. "Well, after the note fell from the rafters, I didn't go right to the managers because of my fitting, but after I gave the note to them, their faces were of fear, but they didn't tell me why. The note talked of his salary and to welcome them back, keep Box 5 empty for him, and there was something about me in there as well."

"Was that why you looked so dismayed by it?" Meg asked her curiously.

"Oh, yes. He was critiquing on how I sung, saying that there was too much raw emotion while I sang, that was all that I really remember, but I was outraged because I didn't know who would say that. It was signed—."

"O.G." Meg said quickly, remembering what he used to sign his notes as.

Theresa nodded, "Yes, that. Thank you. They told me that he was a rumour to get me to stay. A story that they tell performers to have them sleep at night," Meg looked at her dismayed from what she was telling her, "they said the fire was an accident, not at all caused by... the Phantom." It was strange for Theresa, she found, to call him Phantom, but she was trying to get used to it for she couldn't at all call him by name around others. "That... people were only imagining him there."

Meg shook her head, taking her glass of water in her hand. "They are still thick, the managers," she said to Theresa. Meg straightened her back, going to her regular posture. "I've a feeling that maybe that they will follow his orders this time, but last time maman and I both warned them to and they didn't at all believe us. For them to say that to you, is not right. You deserve to know what _truly_ happened."

"I think they barely know what happened themselves," Theresa said to her.

"Why haven't you told me this?" Meg took her napkin that was folded nicely on top of her plate. Theresa did the same, seeing that their food was on their way to the table. The smell of apples filled the air as it came and the waiter centred it on their table. Theresa didn't answer her right away, which earned a look still from across the table.

Theresa shrugged as she looked down at her plate, "I'm sorry, Meg. I just didn't think to at the time, and believe it or not, but you're the first person I told about it since then and that was a while ago."

"Oh, yes, that was the day before the ball, wasn't it?" Theresa nodded to her before taking a black covered apple off the plate in the middle and into hers. But she didn't eat yet at all. Meg sighed , "Well, you should have came to me or someone after they told you that. The managers, they are fools and they seem to have never changed, I wouldn't be surprised if they are packing up their things now. Their faces during auditions made them look like they were going to run straight away after soiling themselves if you haven't said anything."

Theresa looked over at the _Opera Populaire_, the managers would just pack up their stuff and leave like that? No, they wouldn't do that! Though, Meg was right that they did look as if they would soil themselves the moment they heard Erik's voice. She pursed her lips and leaned over the table slightly while asking Meg, "Do you really think that they are that cowardly to just up and go? I mean, the _Opera Populaire _only just opened. I highly doubt that they—."

"Theresa," Meg started, taking some food into her own plate with her fork. "I wouldn't be surprised that when we get back there that they would be writing an advertisement for someone to buy. They don't know much about opera, Theresa, you know that. I think they'll just be happy with having the burden off their hands."

"Why would they even buy a theatre without knowing a thing about the arts though? It's just so strange," Theresa took a bite of her apples and found that Meg was right. This was delicious!

Meg shrugged, taking a bite of her own, "I have no idea. I know that the manager before them sold it for his retirement, and his retirement was quite early, too. For his health, I think he said? But, I think it was the Phantom," her words dropped down to a whisper and she looked around in case someone was an earshot to hear her, "the Phantom is famous for messing with the rehearsals and dropping notes that my mother would usually give. I think that he got tired of it, he retired very early, Theresa, it wasn't like he was ageing into his elderly age."

"How would he mess the rehearsals?"

"Usually it would be with the... Prima Dona," Theresa eyes slightly widened at that, but she had a feeling that Erik wouldn't do... that. Would he? She would ask him later on... later on. She was going to meet him later on. She had almost forgotten about that, but how could she forget about that? Theresa found her eyes going back to the _Opera Populaire _once again like she was being drawn to it. He had such a fearful effect on everyone that inhabited there, why didn't she feel the same way? Theresa felt as if she cou0ld actually... trust him.

Theresa looked back at her, that reminded her. She asked Meg cautiously, "Meg, do you mind me asking about... Christine?" Meg furrowed her eyes to her water and there was an uncertain look to them. Her shoulders stiffened and the rest of her body tensed at the mention of her old friend. Theresa cast her eyes downward, suddenly thinking that she shouldn't have even asked. Too late now. She gulped and looked back at Meg, "You don't have to tell me, Meg. I know that's personal."

"No," quickly said Meg in nothing but a soft whisper. Theresa pursed her lips and shrunk back in her seat. "It's not that, Theresa. It's just... I don't know what exactly _to_ tell you. You see," Meg started to explain and she put a hand through her hair unconsciously, "she never really told me herself what had happened. So, I'm not entirely sure what had happened between her and..." she trailed off, looking down again.

Theresa found herself gulping again as she nodded, "It's okay, but she hadn't told you the tiniest bit of what happened? Anything at all? You two were close friends."

Meg closed her eyes for a moment and there was a short, anxious period of silence exchanged between them. Silence between them wasn't usual, it was particularly out of the norm and the silence between them was a bit unbearable for Theresa. Meg did know something, she knew. It seemed a long time of contemplation until Meg finally opened her eyes, her brown eyes searched Theresa's with a certain reluctance. _She definitely is holding back something, _Theresa thought to herself.

Meg opened her mouth almost as if she was about to tell Theresa something, but soon abruptly, she asked, "Can we talk about something else, please?"

Theresa's mouth parted dismayed and she looked for her fork, so she could finish eating the food that was on her plate. She found that she was fidgeting with it suddenly, but she was oblivious still to it. She nodded quickly, "Yes, sì, of course we can." Theresa stabbed the apple hard with her fork without meaning to, and the apple broke in half instead of going right on it. She made a face and then gently she pushed the fork into the cut in half apple and she brought to her mouth, chewing it awkwardly. Meg looked at her uncomfortably.

Theresa gulped down the food that was in her mouth before informing Meg, "This is very good, you were right before."

It took Meg a moment to realize that Theresa was talking about the food and Meg flashed her a smile, "See? I told you." Meg took an apple onto her fork and ate it. But there was a visible frown that came on her face soon afterwards and Theresa noticed it as well. She frowned as well seeing it. Meg asked her curiously, "What did you mean when telling Jean something about his funeral before he left?"

Theresa pursed her lips and her frown deepened. From the first time Jean started to be the patron, Meg had developed feelings for him. Jean had the same feelings, Theresa knew. He practically told her during auditions. Meg only just came to her about her feelings about him, she wasn't very thorough in explaining them, but she was thorough enough for Theresa to understand them. Theresa drew in a breath, she wasn't not going to tell her good friend the truth about Jean. That would be wrong, wouldn't it? Theresa didn't realize how long of a pause she was taking before Meg had said something to her.

"Well, he isn't going to die, is he? He seems in good health like was in before," Meg stated with a soft chuckle.

Theresa chuckled softly as well, but there was a sad undertone with it, "No, it's not that... it's just..." she trailed off, raising both of her eyebrows for a quick flash. Her jaw tensed for a moment and she found her words were coming dry. But she tried hard to tell her. "He's getting married, Meg, the date is set for two months in the beginning of September."

Meg's mouth parted a bit taking it in as she looked down at her plate of food, suddenly she lost her appetite. Theresa looked at her sympathetically and a bit apologetically for being the one to tell her. Meg tried to smile when she looked back up, but to her dismay it quickly fell. She faked her approval of it, "Oh, I-I'm happy for him."

"Meg," Theresa started, grabbing her friend's hand from across the table. "He doesn't want to, you know that. In fact, he might talk to his father about it," actually Jean told her that idea was ridiculous, but Theresa would just have to talk him into it. He would do it if he really didn't want this marriage. "He's not happy with it, he told me himself and who would want to be marrying that toad?" Theresa chuckled, but to her dismay Meg actually didn't. Her shoulders fell as she took her hand back and sat back on her chair, relaxing her spine.

"Theresa, I just have a question," Meg started, gulping. Theresa suddenly felt her hands start to get clammy for what her question may be, "was he ever going to tell me about when his marriage is?"

Theresa didn't know, he didn't seem like he was even going to tell her before she asked about the monster. Her eyes fell onto her food and she sighed deeply before looking back up again. She said to Meg regrettably, "He didn't look like he was even going to tell me, Meg. Not until I asked about her." Meg pursed her lips and nodded curtly, although it was clear that she was upset to hear about this. Their lunch continued in silence, with an occasional comment here and there.

* * *

It was around an hour after midnight when Theresa had gotten up from her short nap on her cot by the window. She looked out of it and saw that the dark night was only lit by a few stars. She sighed, moving her feet off her cot and she slipped on her heels that she had taken off before. Theresa stood up and flattened down her dress that partly wrinkled while she slept and with a pin, she pinned back the fallen hair quickly. The thing that she didn't care about was her appearance. Without looking in the mirror, she put her hair up then into a braid, tying it at the end with a small bow.

Theresa took her cape, knowing well that sometimes the summer air in France at night could be cold from the breeze and tied it at the neck line of her dress. Then she left her room without any word. The halls of the _Opera Populaire _were silent and dark, her eyes strained to see that there was indeed some light that illuminating the hall, but the light came barely through to guide her up to the roof.

Her steps were quiet as she moved down swiftly, her choice of shoes was obviously a bad one. The soft clatter of her heels didn't help her silence at all, so when she had gotten to the area where the prop makers were usually and the costume makers, she took them off so that her feet were bare. Slippers would have been the smarter choice.

She gripped the railing tightly as she made small steps up them. It was strange walking up them, she kept thinking that she heard laughing up there, but whenever she stopped, the laughing did also. Strange.

When she came closer to the platform where she would have to go on to take the main stairs to the roof, she noticed two pairs of feet dangling off the rafter above. Her eyes almost bulged out of her skull as she stopped, clutching the railing so tightly as she felt her heart stop. What should she do now? There were people up there that would surely see her. When she heard familiar giggles up from that rafter, her face fell completely.

"Henri, it must've been terrible for you today during auditions," Alaina told Henri.

Theresa breathed in sharply and remained there like a frightened deer unsure of what to do. She saw the familiar locks of blonde hair and her shoulder outline was touching Henri's. Henri didn't look so happy that Alaina was there, in fact he seemed distraught almost. Theresa noticed a bottle of gin right next to him that he swiped into his hand and took a long swig out of. He made a face as he had done so and kept looking forward. Alaina laid her head on his shoulder now gripping his arm tightly. Theresa could see them clearly if she tilted her head the right way.

"I'm not in the mood right now, if you can tell I would like to be _alone_, thank you." Henri grumbled to her, trying to shrug off her head off of his shoulder. Though, she didn't get off easily. Theresa saw Henri glare down at Alaina while gripping the neck of his bottle. "Why do you insist on getting on my nerves now of all times?"

Alaina giggled and her head had gotten off of his shoulder, she fingered his arm seductively up and down and Theresa watched Henri's eyes watch her fingers dance there with a certain hunger. Theresa narrowed her eyes at them, she didn't know if she wanted to stay and watch was happening or to go back to her room, and skip the meeting with Erik. She was late anyway, she felt. But it was almost like she was stuck frozen at this spot.

Should she at least make her presence known? No, she wasn't going to do that. Theresa felt her curiosity pike up and suddenly had no choice but to stay there.

"Am I really bothering you that much, I just thought that after last night that you'll..." she trailed off biting her bottom lip as her eyes gazed up and down Henri's lean body. Henri chuckled at the memory with a small smile. _What a fine night that was_, he mused. Theresa furrowed her eyebrow at them and felt that if she stayed on the same wooden step for so long that it would creak under her weight. She gulped, she felt that maybe staying would be a horrible idea for where this is going.

Theresa gripped the railing tightly as she began to slowly back down the stairs. "Well, I—." A loud creak interrupted Henri as he began to talk with a smug smirk on his face. Theresa's face fell as she cursed under her breath for being so idiotic and then saw Henri lock eyes with her. Theresa smiled rather sheepishly at Henri's fallen face and waved innocently and rather awkwardly. Alaina was still looking around, not realizing that Theresa was under them. Henri cleared his throat and jumped up from where he was sitting, brushing his clothes up and down. "Theresa," he breathed.

Alaina turned to look down and then she glared spitefully down at Theresa. "Oh... hello, Theresa." Alaina stayed seated and faked a smile at her.

"Hello," Theresa's voice went high pitch as she looked at them sitting there. She didn't know what to do, she was so ill-prepared at the start of this that it didn't help her at all. She looked around, a silence took place that was terribly awkward and Theresa felt awkward just standing there. She looked up at Henri with her innocent smile like she wasn't just listening. "Uh, did I just interrupt something?"

Henri gulped and looked around himself. He answered, "N-No, nothing at all."

"Actually you have," Alaina stated, getting up and grabbing Henri's arm. Henri looked down at her dismayed and even more distraught than before. "You should be getting to bed, Theresa. You have to save your voice for the auditions next week."

"I could say the same to you. It would be wise for you to rest more than me, instead of having your legs wide open like you live in a brothel." Theresa retorted with venom to her voice and with no control at all. Alaina's face spurred insultingly and Theresa only just realized what she had just said to her. Alaina went to stomp down the stairs when Henri grabbed her arm tightly to prevent her from doing so. Henri stared at Theresa in disbelief.

Alaina scowled at him, "Henri, let me go!"

"No," he told her firmly with a tighter grip. "Theresa," he looked over at her and his face soften with his brow furrowed. Theresa stood there uncertain of why he was looking at her like that. "Why are you out so late?"

"I can ask you the same question, monsieur." Theresa said with her eyes narrowed at him, her innocent smile was wiped off immediately. "But if you must know..." she thought of her excuse immediately, but trailed off, casting her eyes downward. Why did she have to lie all the time suddenly? She wasn't even good at it! She looked back up and stated evenly without cracking to a higher tone like she had done before, "I left something on the roof. I was talking to the Vicomte de Fortescue earlier up there and I must have dropped it."

"You want to talk of scandals, Theresa has taken interest in an engaged man," Alaina stated with her arms being crossed over her chest.

Theresa rolled her eyes at the stupid girl. She defended her lie, "You should get your facts right because his fiancé was there with us." Alaina's face had fallen and she pouted her lips, removing her arms off her chest. Henri however saw right through her lie, from the beginning, knowing that Jean actually left shortly after auditions.

"Very well," Henri stated to her, casting his eyes downward guiltily.

"Now," Theresa looked at them both, with her eyes concerned, if she could actually be concerned for the both of them, "for the both of you, I suggest that you go to bed before someone else would find _you_, someone that you would definitely not want to find you. No telling what they'd tell the managers if you were seen doing something of the scandalous nature, right?"

Henri nodded and loosened his grip on Alaina's arm, "She's right. Let's—." Alaina glared at him angrily, thrashing her arm out of his hold.

"You're actually going to let her get away with saying that to me?" Alaina asked him with her own voice cracking. Henri parted his lips shocked at that and then looked at Theresa. Theresa perked her eyebrows with mild interest at the two of them. Henri didn't know what to say to that, because it wasn't actually hard to bed her like he had last night. Why defend the truth? He took too long of an answer for her liking and before he knew it, Alaina raised up her hand and slapped him hard against the cheek, sending his face sideways.

Henri rubbed his cheek in disbelief as Alaina rushed down the steps and toward Theresa, who was standing straight with her expression not changing. Alaina stopped at the step above Theresa with her eyes in slits. Theresa chuckled tauntingly and inquired, "Why the long face, Mademoiselle Bellerose?"

She scoffed in response and it was almost like she was about to slap her as well. But Theresa grabbed her wrist in mid-air, with her lips forming a scowl. Her eyes narrowed in slits as well and the two ladies stood there like that for a moment. Theresa said to her, "I would save it for the stage if I were you. You are lucky that I don't demand the managers to kick you out of here," she threatened. Theresa never usually let herself use her 'privileges' or threats to leave the stage, she didn't want to come off with her ego getting too big too fast with only one show. Actually, she wouldn't.

But Alaina didn't know that.

Alaina chuckled nervously and shook her head, "No, you wouldn't do that."

"Don't try and test me," Theresa warned evenly through her teeth. She pursed her lips calmly before letting go of Alaina's wrist and stepping sideways so she could pass her. With a final glare, Alaina picked up a part of her skirt and slowly made her way down the steps while holding the railing. Theresa watched her with her eyes narrowed at the woman. Then when she was fading, Theresa went up the stairs to the rafter that Henri was on. He was looking at her with slight disbelief.

Henri said to her, "Terrific lying skills you have there."

"I wasn't lying." Theresa stated shortly while rushing past him while picking up her skirts to make it to the roof. He would have to leave her alone soon if she gave him this sort of behaviour, right? She certainly hope so, now to get onto the roof wasn't to meet Erik any more, it was just to get away from this man. She was practically disgusted. And who wouldn't be?

"You weren't? That's strange because I remember that the Vicomte de Fortescue left after auditions." Henri stated slowly taking his steps over to her. Theresa stopped dismayed at the bottom of the steps of the steep spiral staircase that led to the roof. She cursed under her breath while looking down at the first step.

"For a drunken man, you do have a sober mind."

"I'm not drunk yet, that's why." Henri said to her, putting a hand through his hair. From drinking so much and having a father who was a drinker, he tended to have a high tolerance of alcohol. "So, if you don't mind me asking, why is it that you are up so late, Theresa?"

Theresa turned around on her heel to see that Henri was close to her. Her breath was caught in her throat and her heart felt like it was at the bottom of her throat. His presence, no matter what she had seen earlier, made her at unease like it did any other time. But she tried to not let it phase her, as hard as it was. Theresa stated to him, "I heard you and her talking and I went to check it out. Now if you excuse me—." She went to turn around, but Henri gripped her wrist tightly, turning her back around to face him.

"You heard us," he started not believing her at at all, "all the way from your room, which is far from here."

Theresa nodded to him confidently and said, "Yes. That's exactly what happened. It's not hard to hear that rat squeak loudly as she does."

"I don't believe that," Henri told her, "Like I said, I'm not drunk _yet_. And even if that's so, then why are you still going up onto the rooftop?"

"I need to clear my head, Monsieur D'Aubigne." She said too quickly.

"Clear your head of what, I wonder? Dressed like that?" Henri looked up and down her body to see that she was dressed like she was going out somewhere. Something in her hazel eyes told him that she was hiding something. Theresa didn't answer and looked down at the ground. Henri shrunk back a moment, realizing of what it might be. Although, Theresa didn't think that he would get that sort of vibe from her looking away from him. "Oh, Theresa," her name escaped him very tenderly and he placed a finger under her chin so that she could look at him.

She raised an eyebrow in response. Henri continued, "Last night... between her... I was drunk." Theresa's face fell, that was what he thought when she said that she needed to clear her head. Was he really that... conceited? "It wasn't supposed to—."

For a second time that night, Henri's cheek was sent to the other side quickly and catching him in mid-sentence. Theresa's breathing was rough and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Is that really what you think that I need to clear my head about?" She inquired, thrashing her hand out of his grip on her wrist. Henri peered over at her while rubbing his cheek. "Bastardo, all you think about is yourself! I don't _care_ about you and her, why would I?" Henri gazed at her before she turned her back on him to go up the steep stairs that led up to the rooftop. It took Henri a moment to sit down on the rafter with his bottle of gin and take several glances up the stairs. Soon he stared forward, suddenly the drink in his hand seemed to be his only way to pass his time.

Theresa opened and slammed the door to the roof, bolting it at the top in case he decided to come and follow her. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her back against it. Now that she walked away from him, it did feel like she needed to clear her head of that image of Henri and... Alaina on the rafters together, but she wouldn't admit that to him or to anyone else. "Fottuto bastardo."

"Harsh words." A voice came to her and she opened her eyes immediately to see that Erik was standing there before her, adorned in his usual black attire. His white mask was the brightest thing that he was wearing and it seemed to brighten up the night around them. His presence there wasn't frightening, but it was lightening. She actually found that she missed seeing him during his absence. "You're late." He said to her before actually turning his back to her and walking toward the other side with his hands clasped behind his back.

* * *

_**I'm evil for ending it at the most anticipated part of the chapter, aren't I? Well, anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, even though I am a bit cruel for the cliffhanger. But deep down I think you all love me, right? Leave me some reassuring reviews that you do please, haha. :) **_

_**Next update will be quick since I actually don't like leaving it off how I did, so I might update real soon so I won't keep you all waiting. Once again, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**_

_**With love,**_

_**Tiana xoxo**_


	12. A Gift

_**Told you next update would be quicker ;). Hope you enjoy the new chapter and thank you to everyone who showed their support last chapter! It all means so much to me! Enjoy :)**_

* * *

_Chapter XII: A Gift_

Theresa took a sigh and closed her eyes before walking away from the door. She scratched behind her ear and admitted to Erik who was standing still with his back toward her, "I had an obstacle in my way." A rather big obstacle, at that. Theresa looked around on the rooftop and realized that it was the first time that she had been up there since the night of the ball. She never realized, during her moment of hysterics how beautiful it actually was. It was calming to go up there when you want to forget many things, she sensed. She looked over to see Erik's cloaked body lean against the nearest statue.

"An obstacle?" Erik asked her curiously. Theresa missed his melodic tone, though she had heard him in the theatre, there was something entirely different this time. His voice was gentle, not threatening and menacing. Theresa slowly followed where he went. "What sort of obstacle stood in your way?"

Theresa tapped him on the shoulder lightly and Erik took a moment before looking over at her with his green eyes. Theresa had to brace herself and she swallowed before gesturing to move over next to him with her dainty hand. Erik looked down at it apprehensively before gripping it, his gloved touch almost shocking Theresa before he moved over and guided her beside him against the statue. Theresa leaned her head against it and took back her hand before crossing her arms over her chest.

"People were in my way," Theresa answered shortly. Erik raised his visible eyebrow up to her and frowned. She didn't seem at all happy about those sort of people.

"You took care of it, I assume?" Erik asked her, looking her up and down. Theresa looked back at him and then at the ground of the roof. The woman had a history of being a bad liar, Erik knew. There were several moments when he watched over her that showed him how bad of a liar she really was. But, he had to admit that there was some moments that told him that she was getting a bit better. Why? He might have had some effect on her. She nodded to him shortly, by her eyes, Erik could tell that she was upset about it.

"Yes... I took care of it."

"What sort of people will be wandering the Opera House at this hour, I wonder?" Erik stated, looking forward. "The stage-hands tend to, I'll admit, but lately they haven't been."

"The sneaky sort who don't want to get caught," Theresa sneered under her breath and made a face as she soon forwarded her eyes back at Erik. Erik looked back at her curiously, wanting her to explain what that would mean. Now it was clear that she seemed to be upset about what had happened. "I took care of it, though. I'm here, am I not?"

"That may be true," he said to her. "But, obviously, your head is somewhere else. If I am accurate, I think those words you had said before were well deserved."

She moved a piece of fallen hair behind her ear, "Maybe."

"Might I ask what happened?" Erik asked her carefully. He was going to find out what had happened either way. Theresa tossed a glare behind her shoulder and at the bolted door. Erik took note of this and then peered over her and they both shared the same gaze at the bolted door there. Erik didn't even notice until now that it was bolted shut. Interesting. Erik sighed evenly, "Or why might you be glaring at the door?"

"Because..." Theresa started and trailed off. Henri wouldn't stay on that landing... would he? Theresa wasn't sure how to tell Erik that she thought that someone was either listening in or waiting for her outside. Theresa shook her head mentally, she should be able to tell him, at the very least she should be able to say it, it wasn't that hard to. She took a breath, "I think that... it's ridiculous, but I don't..." the words trailed off again and Theresa soon dropped her voice to a whisper, "he wouldn't wait for me to come out, would he?"

"Would who?" Theresa almost jumped hearing the sound of his voice again. She didn't expect it to be so close and it sent the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. She turned on her heel to see that she was staring at his half-white mask and it was close. She didn't show that she was surprised, but Erik somehow sensed it since he took a step back from her. But he didn't bother to hide that he was still curious about it.

Theresa answered quickly, silently dismayed even more that he had moved away from her, "Henri. The man you painted earlier in the day."

"He would be the sneaky sort to be out at this hour, I suppose," Erik admitted honestly to her. Wandering around at night, he have had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing Henri. It seemed he was in a far worse state than he was in the beginning. But Erik found when he searched her hazel eyes that it was not the ordinary encounter. Something happened between him and her. She would never admit it to him. But her eyes showed that she was. Theresa would have to work on that if she wanted to attempt... _attempt_ to hide something from the man that had known more of what happened in the Opera House than the managers (who didn't know more than the managers?).

Erik then inquired to her, though he might have known the answer, "Was he the obstacle that was in your way, Theresa?"

"Yes," she said through her teeth, turning her back again to the statue and leaning against it. She swiped at several pieces of hair that had fallen down in her face. "Him and a woman that you should have dropped paint on as well today."

"Ah," he tilted his head up, taking that in. "That wouldn't perhaps be Mademoiselle Bellerose, would it?" He, too, leaned against the statue, but not with his back but with his side. He saw Theresa's small, pink lips curl into a scowl at the mention of her name. How did he know that? As if he had heard her thoughts, Erik answered the question she didn't say out loud, "She was the only woman that tried out for the same part as you."

Theresa turned her head at him and nodded understandingly. She shook her head. "Don't know what that woman's problem is with me since the first day I arrived."

"Her voice could use some work," Erik admitted to her. Theresa turned her head toward him and looked him up and down, her voice was perfect in Theresa's eyes. It was so worrisome for her. Clearly both André and Firmin thought that her voice was better, by the looks on their faces it seemed that they hardly expected her to sound like that. Theresa had the strong urge to ask the great Phantom what he had thought of her audition, but decided against it. She was hot-headed the first time he gave his criticism.

Erik continued his opinion, "She went off pitch several times and she seemed to have lacked a great amount of control."

Theresa scoffed at him, "That's because she probably changed what she wanted to audition for the last minute. Everyone seemed to have thought that I was going to try out for Despina," Theresa didn't mean to let that slip out of her mouth, since Erik had raised a dark eyebrow at that, his visible one. Theresa didn't notice right away. "She probably prepared for that one, I think."

Despina? Erik tilted his head up for a moment and then realized who the character was. Theresa had the voice for such a role, he took a look at Reyer's stand where the music for the opera was when he had left it in the theatre one night. He had forgotten what role Theresa was going to audition for, but the maid was in the scheme of the whole charade performed by a man, he couldn't think of anyone that would have the right amount of charm for it. He asked her coolly, "Why hadn't you tried out for that part?"

Theresa seemed frozen where she stood and suddenly her eyes were somewhat distant. She turned her head away from Erik and walked away from the statue to the ledge of the roof. Erik watched her cautiously as she decided to sit down, her feet actually dangling off as her eyes skimmed each of the buildings. Erik looked cautiously behind him and slowly walked toward the ledge next to her and instead of sitting next to her, he stood there looking down at her. "It wasn't the part I wanted," Theresa said to him.

Erik saw how distant her eyes looked. Like before he could tell that there was something else behind them. Did she really think that she could get away with hiding something from him? He tried to think back from recent conversations he would hear in the _Opera Populaire's_ walls. Especially Theresa's. But, how little did he know, that the exact reason was the reason of her rant on the rooftop a month ago, when they first met. "I doubt that." Erik said under his breath, Theresa's ears perked at the sound and she looked up at him.

"Why would you say that?" Theresa asked him, clearly offended by it. Erik went to answer her, but she held up her hand, "We're not here about me, are we? What's the reason that you called for this meeting?"

Erik closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes at her as she sat there stone faced, looking up at him. Erik had a hard time understanding her. He pursed his lips, the matter of him getting interrupted by her wasn't going to be taken likely. He asked her, calmly, "And what I really want to know is who are you to have the nerve to interrupt a man like me, mademoiselle?"

Theresa narrowed her eyes at him and visibly frowned. She stood up on her two feet and she came only an inch below his height as she stood straight. She said to him, "What do you mean a man like you? We've been through this before, I—."

Erik held up a hand for her and she looked at his hand pointedly. He wanted to talk about being interrupted? He was doing the same thing! Erik tilted his head up at her curiously looking her up and down while doing so. "A man like me," he repeated to Theresa. Theresa looked up at him and away from his hand, her eyes softening as she heard a growl almost, "who can overpower you, very easily. I was about to answer you and you knew that I was. It is rude even for an outspoken woman like yourself."

Theresa's face fell and she took a step back from him. She tossed a look behind her shoulder and at the bolted door being tempted to raise her voice at him. It was like Erik know that she couldn't. If Henri was still there, then he would surely hear. Theresa turned her head back toward Erik and puffed out her chest. She pouted her lips at him as she struggled against yelling at him to argue that, or to just give up. She told him in an almost growl like his and coolly, "I see you as a man like any other, Erik. Not the Phantom."

With a huff, she sat herself back onto the ledge, swiping loose hairs from her face. Erik gritted his teeth for a moment as a silence between them passed. Theresa crossed her arms over her chest and sighed deeply, the air between them suddenly got cold and stiff. Theresa broke the silence. "What do you want, Erik?" Her voice. Erik heard the bite that was held in it. Had he done something to displease her? He almost forgotten what the reason for the meeting between them was himself.

She explained, "The meeting. What is it for? You said in the letter that you wanted to show me something."

"Rather give you back something," Theresa looked behind her shoulder with her eyebrow raised as Erik took his place next to her on the ledge. He went into his cape and Theresa waited with bated breath. She didn't know what she was expecting, but when she saw him take out a few pieces of parchment, her face lightened a bit. Tied in a black ribbon was the music that she couldn't find. Her father's original work and the piece he played for her mother all the time. Theresa was going to ask him where he had gotten this, but Erik explained himself, "I found this one night. You must have left it there."

Theresa slowly took it out of his hand slowly and looked through the pieces of parchment. "I've been looking for these. I... I didn't think about looking in that practice—." She stopped herself when she saw three more sheets of parchment that was there. Theresa's face fell for a moment and then pulled it out, seeing dried up notes that she didn't recognize at all. Erik sat there watching her intently where he sat and waited for what she would say to it. He gulped inwardly to himself as she studied it.

It seemed beautiful. Theresa couldn't wait to hear how it sounded. But where... she looked over at Erik slowly. "I never saw this piece before..." she stated to him slowly.

Erik nodded, already knowing it. "That's because it's new." Theresa looked back at it and hummed the rhythm in her head, she suddenly wished a piano was in front of her. She would love to do nothing other than play it. _New_. It was new. Where had he gotten it? He left the Opera House? Theresa's eyes searched for the title at the top, but unfortunately it wasn't found... for it wasn't there. Nor was the composer. He asked, "Do you remember that midnight when I had found you?"

Theresa raised a brow before inquiring to him, "Playing?"

"Yes."

"Vividly, actually," Theresa had not forgotten their last meeting. It was better than their first and better than their tense moment in his lair. She thought that she glimpsed past his hard exterior. Theresa also had never had not a thought about Erik in the days of his absence. She was always curious about what he was doing. Erik raised a brow of his own, clearly he wasn't expecting her answer and didn't know how to follow up on it. Theresa went back to her humming and realized how familiar it sounded... Then it suddenly hit her.

Theresa slowly looked up at her with her humming ceasing, her lips curved into an appreciative smile, "You finished the song you couldn't get out of your head?" Erik nodded to her curtly as she took out all three pages that were neatly put together. She looked at each page, her smile growing larger and Erik found himself staring at that smile. _No,_ his mind told him firmly and there was almost a firm reminder of the ring he kept in his pocket from six years ago. "It looks beautiful."

She went to look back at him and Erik quickly looked away from her lips and into her hazel eyes. He found his hands getting clammy a bit underneath his gloves, and he knew that it wasn't from the warm air around him. He cleared his throat loudly and said to her, "I thought... that you would like to see it. You were giving suggestions on how it should sound, so I thought that maybe you'll help with the finished product."

"It's not finished yet?" Theresa's smile faltered hearing that and Erik suddenly wished that he could take back what he had just said to her. "Didn't you just say—?"

"There's no title." Erik said to her quickly and though his better judgement told him to not do this, he moved his place closer to her, so that they were barely touching and he pointed to the top. "You see?" Theresa's eyes followed his finger. Erik told her gently, "I thought that maybe you'll help me with that."

"Oh..." Theresa looked over at the notes that were there as Erik removed his finger. "I would love to, Erik. Like I said, it looks beautiful." She had forgotten what had put her on the edge before. "How would I be of help?"

"Just play it," Erik told her quickly, folding his hands over his lap. "The name will come to you, I believe."

Theresa collected the music in her hands and then slipped it between the knotted ribbon that was flawlessly tied. Theresa could see the care that was tied in it too. She placed it on her lap, her hands on top of it keeping it secure there. Theresa looked over at him to see him quickly turn his head away and busy himself looking forward. No matter how much she wanted to ask about that, she inquired to him, "It hasn't come to you?"

Erik answered her distantly, "Not yet. I played it a couple of times but no names came to mind." Theresa smiled at him and nodded understandingly before looking forward as well. The view from the rooftop was magnificent. She could sit there all day if time allowed her. Erik looked back at her once he thought it was safe to look at her without getting caught. He noticed once again that her mind was somewhere else, but this time he could see that it was somewhere good for she was smiling for once that night. He was fond of that smile.

"Well, I'll be more than happy to help." Theresa said to him still distantly. Even in the dark she found it captivating. Calming, almost. Imagine how it would be during the day? Theresa would never leave. She said to Erik, "I never realized, but it's calming out here. I wish I had more time to go up here."

"Yes," Erik said to her, agreeing. He looked forward as well and found himself nodding. "I sometimes spend times up here... to think mostly."

"I can see why." Theresa yawned and covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes water. Erik looked back at her, thinking that this would be all over now and she should go back to her room. There was another way to get off the roof, a passage way that wouldn't be anywhere near Henri waiting for her if he was. But once he went to get up, she asked him quickly, "Erik, I don't know what you may say to this, but that ring that you had... was that...?" Theresa trailed looking over at him and he frowned hearing her question.

Maybe it wasn't the best to ask. But he didn't have to tell her. She added quickly after, "You don't have to answer that. If, of course, you don't want to. It is a little personal, I'll admit, so I don't want to pry."

Erik's jaw went stiff and he looked beside himself at the ledge. He said reluctantly to her, "Yes, it was." Erik moved somewhat away from her and Theresa frowned that his arm was now barely skimming her own. Theresa looked down at her lap and shifted where she sat to be closer to him. Erik looked over at her with his eyebrow raised as she placed her hand tentatively on top of his shoulder. His frown wasn't as deep as it was before but it was still there.

Theresa understood what the ring was. An engagement ring. She asked him slowly, "Why her? How did you—How did you meet her?"

Erik looked down and put all the restraint for him not to tremble as he would answer her. He wasn't over what had happened six years ago the night of the fire. He didn't know if he ever could get over his pupil rejecting him in the worst way. Or the look on his angel's face when she saw him without his mask. She was frightened. Erik braced himself before answering her, his tone more even than what he was mentally at the moment, "I taught her how to sing and got her to where she is today."

Theresa smiled sadly at him and went to remove something off of her neck. Erik's eyes followed her small hands curiously as she pulled out a chain that was hidden underneath the bodice of the dress. She unclipped the necklace from its back and gathered it in her hand before Erik could catch a glimpse of what was bunched up. She suddenly took his hand and opened it from being clenched together. Theresa slowly placed the necklace into his hand and then with both of her hands she closed it, cradling it gently.

"Take it," she said to him and pushed his hand forward. Erik looked down at it as Theresa moved her hands away. He opened his hand slowly to see a gold chain with a cross at the end of it. Theresa watched him furrow his brow at her confused at what he was given. She explained, "That was my father's. It's one of the few things that are left of him. I want you to have this cross, I have no need for it."

"Theresa," Erik started to her gently, and went to give it back. It was a nice gesture, really it was and Erik would forever remember this moment, but he didn't... Erik wasn't a religious person so he would not have a need for it either. "It's not mine to receive. He—." Theresa held up her hand with a small smirk developing at him being flustered for her gift. He stopped talking and looked at her carefully.

"I don't care, Erik." She said to him with her smirk growing a bit. She closed his hand back up again and pushed it back toward him again. Erik's eyes furrowed back to his hand and his face grew softer as her soft hand was still on top of his. He suddenly wished that Erik could actually hold that soft hand within his, it seemed that it would fit into his perfectly. "I know that you are probably the last person to be religious and I'm not giving it to you because of that reason, Erik."

Erik gulped and looked up into her hazel eyes. He asked her, "Then what might that reason be?"

"When my father was alive, he had told me: Dopo succede qualcosa di brutto, qualcosa di buo0no si trova nelle vicinanze. And that means that 'After something bad has happened, something good is close by.' Now," Theresa noticed Erik not really impressed by that piece of advice. So she added quickly to him, "I don't know what happened in your life and how much bad was in there, nor do you have to tell me, but no matter how much there is, there is always going to be some good in your life. Just... remember that."

Erik blinked feeling his heart go heavy from what she said and looked down at the necklace in his hand, opening it up again. He told her, "Thank you, mon chéri. I..." he trailed off looking for the right words to say to her, there wasn't many that he had received kindness from. The only other people were Antoinette, who had saved him from the gypsies, and Christine, who was the only one who would listen to him. Now there was Theresa. Theresa's smirk turned into a smile and Erik, once again was quite fond of that smile. But he told her honestly, "I still do not understand why you would give it to me... of all people."

"My father told me that when he had given this to me. It helped me a lot when I was alone and I remembered that single phrase he would say. I thought that maybe you would like it. Well... do you?"

Erik showed that he liked it by putting the gold chain around his neck for her to see. He didn't shed a smile to show his gratitude, but when Theresa saw his eyes shimmer with happiness as he put it on, he didn't need to. "Very much. It was very... thoughtful of you to do so. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Theresa said to him softly. The both of them sat there for who knows how long. Theresa sat there as Erik was looking in her eyes. Her heart was beating fast against her chest and she had no idea why it was either. A pit at the bottom of her stomach had formed, from nerves maybe? Might as well had been. Theresa glanced down to his lips, they seemed soft and perfectly shaped. She wondered how they would really feel when they kissed. And slowly before Theresa actually knew what she was doing, she moved toward him even closer, causing Erik himself to be frozen where he was.

Erik suddenly felt her lips on the unmasked side of his face and his breathing became somewhat hollow. The kiss on his cheek was soft and gentle, but little did Theresa know that it meant a great deal to him. Theresa slowly moved back as Erik sat there stiffly and frozen still. She suddenly thought that she might have made a mistake in doing what she did. Erik cleared his throat and felt heat come to his face. Theresa parted her mouth as she watched him rise up from where he stood. Did she upset him?

He brushed down his dark clothing as she furrowed her eyes at the bottom of the building that she had faintly saw. Their meeting ended. Theresa gathered the music he had given back and the music that he had just written in her hands and went to get up without help, but she noticed his hand outstretched to her to help her up. Theresa sat there looking at that with her eyebrow raised confused, but slowly she gripped it only to be helped to be brought to her feet. "I feel that our meeting has ended." Erik said to her evenly.

Theresa slowly nodded, understanding him. But she didn't make a reply back to him, holding her music to her chest tightly. Erik added on, "I'll walk you down to your room then." He tugged her forward as Theresa looked to the bolted door worriedly, no, Henri was there. The Phantom couldn't be seen with her nor could he be seen period.

"But... The door is bolted shut and Henri, if he's out there—."

"I know another way off the roof and I can come back," Erik said to her quickly, leading her away from the ledge they sat on. Theresa shook her head and looked behind her shoulder doubtfully. Erik felt that her grip on his hand was looser than what it would usually be, so he stopped and turned to face her. "Theresa," Theresa turned her head toward him in a flash and saw Erik's narrowing eyes at her and brow furrowing at her concerned. "Do you trust me?"

The question caught her off guard. Did she trust him? "You never have given me a reason not to, Erik."

"Then let me walk you down to your room, you're tired and you won't get down quickly without me." He told her knowingly and Theresa's breathing had become rough. She blinked a couple of times and soon nodded to him slowly as he tugged her along the way.

Theresa didn't know where the other door was, but he opened it out of nowhere, it matched perfectly with the stone wall and the door knob with it was camouflaged. Erik let go of her hand momentarily to hold the door open for her and when she stepped the light beaming from the moonlight was their only source of some sort of light. She suddenly knew that they were in the passageways hidden in the _Opera Populaire._ When Erik had let go of the door, it immediately slammed shut causing Theresa to jump. She was now overcome by the darkness of the passageway he took her in.

"Don't be afraid," Erik said to her gently and he moved around her as Theresa followed the sound of his movement and his voice. She could tell that she was safe with him... at least and that he was in front of her. She heard a match flicker in front of her to see a small light. The small amount of light that illuminated onto Erik's mask as he went to grab a torch on the wall, made it look menacing. Theresa thought the opposite of that, however. She felt that it was more intriguing.

When the torch was lit with the match, the dark lessened around them. Erik stared at Theresa for a moment, moving the torch away from her and in front of him as he transferred it into his other hand. Erik held out the one that held that torch toward her. Theresa stared at it for a moment. "Come on," Erik said with a nod of his head toward where they were going and reluctantly Theresa gripped his hand even tighter than she had the first time he had led her through the passages. Not wanting to get lost.

Theresa was careful where she stepped as Erik safely guided her through. They were both silent as they walked, stopping here and there as Erik grunted and then led her away from some sort of trap laid for the people that dared come through. The trip to her room was such a blur and her eyes were beginning to water, making her sight blurry. Theresa managed to not fall asleep on their way and soon they were in the familiar passageway that she had once walked through behind the mirror. Theresa didn't know if she could make it.

Erik heard Theresa dragging her feet behind him and then looked over at her behind his shoulder to see that sooner or later she would pass out if she continued to walk. Erik told her gently, "We have a bit more to go. Do you think you could walk the rest of the way?"

Theresa snapped out of her drowsiness and realized that Erik had stopped walking to turn and look at her concerned. She slowly nodded, but Erik didn't believe it. He took the torch and replaced one of the not lit ones with it, dropping the unlit one onto the floor. Erik then put his arms under her own and under her knees, sweeping her off her feet. Her eyes widened by the sudden movement, but she found that it was much more comfortable than walking. Though her eyes were closing, she said to Erik sleepily, "I'm fine."

"I doubt that," Erik murmured under his breath only to hear a low chuckle from her. Then Erik walked the short distance to her room and though it wasn't easily nor smoothly, he somehow pressed a button hidden on the slide that moved the mirror out of his way. He was welcomed by a single candle light lit by her bed and he looked around carefully before he walked toward her bed. Theresa meanwhile was falling asleep onto his chest, sometimes opening her eyes repeatedly to keep herself up.

Then she felt herself being descended into her bed. Theresa, through her blurry vision, saw Erik take off his gloves and place them aside on top of her night stand. Then tentatively, he went to her neck to untie the cloak she wore, even though she was laying on top of it, he some how managed to get it away from her. Swiftly, he pulled the covers out from under her and Theresa helped by lifting her legs and folding them so he could pull them completely out. Then just as tentatively, he tucked her in securely.

Theresa smiled at him sleepily as he knelt down next to her when finished. She asked him, "Can you tell me something? In all honesty?"

"It depends on what that is." Theresa closed her eyes hearing his voice. It was musical to hear it, especially now.

She said to him, "I want to know what you thought of my audition. I want your professional opinion."

"You got offended the first time, what makes you think that you won't be offended again?" Erik chuckled at her, earning a soft giggle from Theresa.

"Well, I can take it now since I'm half asleep. Besides..." she trailed off, yawning, her eyes were now in deep protest of them staying open. When she tried to raise up her eyebrows in a way to keep them open, she continued to him, "I was more offended that you haven't said it face-to-face with me, it was in a note that I don't think I was supposed to read at all."

Erik laughed softly at her amused. He shook her head no as the light from the candle made his green eyes seem brighter. "You weren't supposed to read it."

"I had the feeling," Theresa said to him. There was a long pause between them and the air thickened with anticipation for his answer. Theresa couldn't wait any longer. "Well? What did you think?"

Erik braced himself with a sigh. It seemed that she was too tired for him to go into full detail of what he thought about what her audition was like, but he couldn't go into only half of it. He said to her slowly, "It was good, apart that it held way too much emotion and you hit notes that were barely possible for your voice to hit." Theresa frowned hearing that and the happy glimmer in her eye seemed to slowly disappear, "You lacked the charm of that character and you needed more breath support, I am shocked that you weren't better. Your last performance showed your voice matured... greatly. It was disappointing almost." Theresa's frown couldn't get any more deeper.

All she could muster through her sleepiness was an, "Oh."

Erik nodded, though he could tell that she was disappointed by that answer. He said to her, "You don't fit the charm of that character, Theresa," she looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. What did he mean? "You should try for a different part, the one that you _should_ be trying out for."

Theresa could've rolled her eyes if she hadn't been tired. She knew what exact part he was talking about. She never even thought about looking at the arias for Despina, nor was she planning to. She told him, "I can't try out for her now. I haven't looked at the arias because I'm not planning to, nor had I looked at her speaking parts. It's not for me."

"How would you know if you haven't even looked at it yet?" Theresa drew her eyes away from him to the floor. Erik saw that as her understanding what he just said. She knew he was right. Theresa was being unreasonable about that part, but she didn't... that was her mother's. How could she take that part from her? Erik studied her face and inquired, "What is the _real_ reason that you don't want to try out, Theresa?"

"I—," Theresa started, but found her words coming dry. She took a deep breath before sitting up a bit. This was embarrassing, but she knew that he listened to her rant that she had on the roof with herself. It was obvious if she would just say one sentence to him. He seemed, Erik, to be a man that would never forget a word one says. So, she told him slowly, "My mother... was Despina in Italy."

Oh, Erik now had a further understanding of why. By what he heard, she hated her mother's training and would like to stray away from what she was taught to do. Erik straightened up off the ground and nodded. Theresa slowly laid back down onto her pillow as Erik said to her reassuringly, "I think if you put your mind to it, you will be able to make that part your own and apart from your mother's, Theresa. It is not a reason to not try out for it, but I understand your discomfort."

"You... you really think that?" Theresa asked him slowly. She saw that Erik nodded to her, a short, curt nod. Theresa tried keeping her eyes open, but much to her dismay they were begging her to close them. Then she finally let sleep take over and closed her eyes without a fight. Erik stood there as she pulled the covers up closer to her and then she turned over on her side, opening her mouth slightly. Erik's lips parted as well and he leaned over her bed to see that she really let herself fall into such a deep sleep right away, only talking to him moments ago.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly swept her bangs out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. Then he leaned over her small, sleeping figure and tentatively he kissed the top of her forehead that was available for him to lay one.

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_**I think it's funny how I'm posting it around the same time I posted it last time. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Like I think I've mentioned before, the romance is going to be slow-paced, especially given Erik's situation, since he's not over Christine still. But as you can see, he definitely cares for Theresa... Don't forget to drop a review before you go! I love hearing from you!**_


	13. The Mask

_**Hello everyone :). Yes, yes, I'm updating this with the most painful chapters I ever wrote ever for this story. Because I really hated writing it, because I actually cried while doing so and also cried just now while editing it. So... yeah. I would have updated this on Friday, like I planned originally, but there was something weird going on FF so I didn't. But I am updating this now! Thank you to everyone that reviewed and favourited and alerted this story, it means so much. Enjoy!**_

_**Review Reply:**_

_**Guest: Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the new update!**_

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_Chapter XIII: The Mask_

Theresa flattened down her dress and left her hair down, tying a ribbon to pull some of it back and away from her face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding the music of Fiordigili in her hands. Then slowly she opened her eyes and then walked to her door, opening it. The _Opera Populaire_ was quiet, except for the sound of music coming from the theatre with a cane banging occasionally. And when the cane banged, there was an abrupt stop and a sort of loud scowl coming from Madame Giry. Theresa sighed and then walked to the managers' office.

Theresa made her way quickly as a way to not draw attention to unwanted eyes. Then she made a quick turn to a hall that led directly to Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin's office. They should be in at this time, shouldn't they? It wasn't that early, she recalled. She stopped at the door and raised her hand to knock on it, but instead she heard distinct mumbling from the other side. "What do we do now?" Theresa frowned at the tone of André's voice. She quietly pressed her ear to the door with a sceptic look crossing her face.

"What do we do now? We leave, that's what we do now! The papers said he was dead last time we checked, didn't they?" Firmin responded. "Now, we find someone who would be interested in buying this building off our hands, so they can deal with the problem of that _thing_ themselves."

"But we can't just up and leave!" André said. Theresa could have sworn that she heard him actually walk toward Firmin in a rush. "Everyone knows the story of the Phantom here in Paris, no one would buy it. You and I know this since we _tried _to before! Did anyone of those people that came to us not laugh and leave and were interested? No, they said that we were insane! Firmin, we're stuck here, there's nothing that we can do about it." Theresa frowned at the panic that was in his voice and raised her hand again to knock.

But hesitated when Firmin spoke up, "Then we shut it down! No more! We're not dealing with this mad man again, André, we are not." Theresa dropped her hand.

"We can't just do that either! There are people who live here that have nowhere to go. What about the _money_ we'll lose when we close it down? We cannot just go back to the scrap metal business! We're already laughing stocks there. No, it's just bad for business." _It is bad business either way, _she thought to herself.

"It's bad for business either way!" It was almost like Firmin read her thoughts from inside. He loudly huffed, so loud that he could be heard by Theresa. She could picture his head just shaking and his arms crossing over his chest. "You're right though, André we cannot just go back to the junk—."

"Scrap metal! It was scrap metal!" André's voice actually sounded even more panicked and it even cracked.

"Right,_ scrap metal. _Well we cannot go back to it, we've tried that and it hardly worked! But, we cannot stay either, he could sabotage us all over again and this time we would be humiliated... even more! Do you know how many people told us that we are crazy over these past years for even _considering _coming back?" She heard an exasperated sigh from the other side and a loud thump that sounded like someone was pounding on wood. She was tempted to knock again, but she didn't want them to think that she was eavesdropping (even though she was).

André inquired then, "What are we to do then? Call the police?"

"They were hardly of use last time, André. Do you not remember? The building burned with them inside it. They only accomplished getting down to where his lair was and they didn't find—." Theresa stopped listening when she heard someone whispering her name around her. Theresa looked around herself immediately to see that no one was around her.

The voice.

_His_ voice.

"_Eavesdropping?" _She raised her brow and she knew that was Erik right away. She looked carefully around a corner, and she took a step back to see that there was a shadow. _"Come here, Theresa, you're looking straight at me_._" _Theresa looked around herself before she actually walked toward the shadow cast by a statue in the corner of the hall. She soon broke out in a faster pace when she noticed a hand extended out with a note. It was indeed Erik, but he was so deep in the shadow and his usual black attire made it extremely hard for her to see him.

"Erik," Theresa breathed and she looked around herself to still check if she was alone with him. Then looking back at him, she told him in a whisper, "What's the matter with you? Clearly you are not welcome during the day by anyone and yet you choose to openly come into a—."

He hushed her quickly by placing a finger to her lips. Theresa looked down at it pointedly and he stepped forward so that she could at least get some view of him. He told her softly, removing the finger from her lips, "I have my duties during the day, Theresa. Duties such as this." His eyes and his mask were the brightest out of everything on him, and his green eyes motioned to the hand still extended out.

Theresa got the hint and reluctantly she took it out of his hand, turning it around to see his signature seal. Blood red and in the shape of a skull. "What is this for?"

"You are to give that to your dear managers," Erik couldn't help but scowl when he looked at their door. Theresa frowned even deeper when she took a look again at the note. "In there are instructions. I feel that my letter startled them just a bit yesterday."

"More than a bit clearly." A bit? Theresa suddenly felt something in her that she parted her mouth, insulted actually. It startled them more than just a bit!

"Yes, well, my apologies for that." Erik stated to her, holding his other hand up.

Theresa said to mainly herself, but Erik heard her, "Quite the apology." Erik didn't comment on what she said, but he did narrow his eyes at her. Now she inquired directly to him, "But don't you think that another note would drive them mad?"

"Good, maybe then they'll do what they're told this time." Erik replied to her, crossing his arms over his chest. Theresa looked at him in disbelief and then glanced down at the note. She felt like ripping it now in front of him! Did he not care that they were thinking of leaving because of him? She didn't know if she could bare to see them even more distressed as they already are. They were fine for now without him. Couldn't this wait until tomorrow? Or, not even, another day other than today?

Theresa shook her head and went to hand back the note to him. She wasn't going to give it to them, she would rather die; they were stressed out enough. "No, I'm not going to. Find someone else that knows of your existence to do it for you or drop it in on them yourself. I'm not delivering it myself."

Erik furrowed his visible brow at her and looked her up and down. "Theresa, this is important."

"Not as important as their sanity." Theresa said quickly and then she felt Erik grab her arm tightly in his hold as she was about to walk away from him. He pulled her into the shadow he was in and then pulled her into an opening that was shown by a swift move made by him. Theresa felt a sudden pain there and thrashed her arm out of his hold. She seethed as she looked down at it, to see that it was red from his tight grip. Erik stood tall in front of her with his back turned toward her as he closed the opening. He lit a candelabra that was on the wall and Theresa saw a menacing look in her eyes.

"Do you know what you are doing?" He inquired to her. Theresa's eyes widened in fear and she nodded anyhow to him. She wasn't going to give it to them though no matter the fury that was suddenly flaring up in his eyes. "You do not know the contents of the letter, it has to be delivered to them and you are the one to do it. Understand?"

"No, I don't." Theresa said once again quickly before thinking about it first. "Another letter from you would drive them off the edge, don't _you_ understand? They're pacing their office because of you now!" Theresa shouted in a whisper, she didn't know if the sound of her voice could be heard outside. She rubbed her wrist, which was actually still aching. Erik rubbed the bridge of his nose in response. "I'm not doing it."

"How would you even know what you are giving if you do not know yourself what is in there, you insolent girl?" Erik asked her irritated. Theresa took a step back from him and gulped. His voice was not only irritated, it sounded hostile. This wasn't the Erik that she came to know.

"It's not what is in there that matters, Erik. The fact that it is from _you_ is what matters." Theresa said slowly. "They fear you, it is plain to see. They are thinking of leaving because of—."

"Good, those fools don't belong in the arts anyway. I'm surprised that they stayed this long in it." This was what drove Theresa over the edge. She couldn't control herself. She brought her hand up in a flash and slapped the visible cheek the hardest that she could. So hard that the mask fell off of his face as it went to the side. Theresa saw that his hand flew up at that side, so quick that she couldn't see what was it that he was covering. But the note fell from her hand as she was forced against the wall by his strong hand at the bottom of her throat.

Theresa saw a fury in his eyes that she had only saw once before, a different kind of fury that she had just seen. It was the type of fury that she saw in his lair, only this time he wasn't choking her, no, he was only holding her there on the wall as his lips curled into a scowl. Theresa's eyes widened even more, but she kept her trembling lips pursed into place (though it was very hard to) and her chin held up high. Though, Erik still saw the fear that was in her hazel eyes as she stared into his eyes. They were in silence, staring at each other.

Until Erik told her in practically a growl, "I didn't know a woman like you could have such _nerve." _

"You'd be surprised, I have plenty of it." She retorted to him. Theresa was pushed into the wall even more and his hand moved fully onto her throat. He didn't grasp it tightly, but it was enough to choke her now. The air in her throat was thinning.

"Do you know what you could have just done before?" He tried not to shout at her. He could be heard if he shouted, but he talked in an almost mild tone. Theresa didn't answer him, she was silent and staring at him. "Do you?" He wanted to shake her so badly, but the risk of removing his hand was taunting him. He instead got real close, she tilted her chin so that she could get as far away from the dancing flames in his eyes, so her eyes wouldn't look into his. "Well?" His voice was getting more and more agitated. She barely could even answer him!

Theresa gulped with much difficulty and hoarsely she answered, "No." Erik didn't hear her.

"What was that?"

"I-I," she stammered, her mouth getting dry. "I said..." she now said louder, "no, I don't know." Her eyes furrowed over to the hand covering his face. Why was he covering that side? Theresa tried to look past it, but with the lack of light the candelabra illuminated it was hard. But she did see skin that was twisted at the side of his nose. But that was it. Erik felt her gaze on him and he got even more close. His breath hitting her face harshly. "Erik, y-you are hurting me." She choked out, her eyes squinting as they began to water. He ignored her.

"Do you want to know, mademoiselle? Do you really want to know what lies underneath?" He hissed at her, the scowl upon his lips grew even larger. Underneath? What would be so different...? Theresa's mouth tried to form words to answer him when he suddenly removed his hand from his face. Theresa suddenly had the urge to scream.

Before Theresa could do anything his grip loosened on her and she was thrown onto the floor. With a hard fall, Theresa supported herself. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she just stared at the floor, wanting to get that image out of her head. His... his face. She didn't know whether it was the trick of the light or if he actually looked like that. But... it was deformed. So deformed that Theresa could've sworn that she saw a part of his skin that looked like part of his bone would show.

The skin looked like it was thawing... off. It looked like it would fall off if someone was to touch it. Theresa closed her eyes, but the image just popped up in front of them and frightened her even more.

Theresa picked herself up off of the ground slowly and saw the note laying on the floor. She gulped, grabbing it in her hand. Then reluctantly she looked over to see Erik on the floor sitting there in a corner, holding his mask in his hand. His lips were moving but there was nothing coming out. There wasn't even mutterings from him, or small sobs. He didn't even notice her looking at him.

Her shoulders fell and she looked down at the note again. Theresa tried to put her fear aside for a moment, but she felt herself actually shaking. Theresa pursed her lips and touched her forehead. Erik didn't know that she was actually still up when he had kissed her there. He held a sweetness inside of him, she knew. She felt a tear lace her cheek as she closed her eyes. There was a silence that enveloped between them. Theresa then did something that she would never do for anyone else, she knew Erik was different. She stood up on her feet and walked toward him.

He didn't even look up at her as she approached him. Theresa blamed herself for that. If she hadn't reacted the way she did, then maybe he wouldn't look so vulnerable right now. She never even imagined the Phantom of the Opera crying like he was right now. She crouched down to his level and then put a hand over his. The touch startled Erik as he looked into her eyes. There wasn't a sort of fear that was there before. Erik didn't recognize what was in her eyes actually. It wasn't pity either. He knew _that_ look most definitely.

Theresa's eyes burned as she dared to not blink, and she took the mask slowly out of his hands. Erik's eyebrow raised as she slowly touched where the part of his skull looked to be raised on his face.

Her touch sent shocks as she did this. Theresa touched each of the creases, each fold of his skin on the distorted side. The horror of it went away just as quickly as it came. But her lip trembled as she touched it. His other eye actually looked bloodshot as it drooped down and she touched the nose that was practically flat on the distorted side. They were still in silence. Erik was now gazing at her, both in confusion and admiringly. The nerve of her... she just did something that most... dared _not_ to do.

"Your face..." she started breathlessly. Theresa still touched the creases that his skin dipped down to. Erik sat there unmoving, staring at her. Her eyes welled up with tears as she continued, her bottom lip trembled. "I can't imagine the life that you've known."

Her tone wasn't of pity either. Erik didn't know what to call it. But what she said, what she didn't mean by it at all, Erik thought that it meant something along the lines of pity. Theresa wiped a tear that had fallen from his eye. Then she went to kiss below his eye when Erik turned his face away from her. Theresa removed her hand in disbelief and then Erik turned his face toward her with his eyes narrowing at her. Theresa didn't shy away from him or flinch, though the glare he narrowed his eyes into seemed almost deadly.

Theresa's breathing became hoarse as he leaned toward her. The wicks from the candelabra that contained flames, made his face even more terrifying than what it have been when he was sitting there before. Theresa only just noticed that his smooth cheek was wet. She moved back however when he came closer to her. "Why, Theresa?" He asked her, his voice in a harsh whisper. Theresa frowned, knowing that the whisper was forced out.

Theresa sat there, closed mouth and then she looked down at the ground. She picked up the white mask off the ground. "I-I," she stammered on her words as she closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes, a tear escaped and slid down her cheek. "Erik..." she held out his mask for him. Her heart dread as he looked down at it. The deadly look that crossed his eyes before seemed to disappear as he slowly touched the mask. His green eyes looked into her own eyes, Theresa saw something there... was it hurt?

Theresa tried to move her mouth to say something else, but he snatched the mask out of her hand and stood up quickly. Theresa looked up at him and picked up the note before standing up with him. Erik's back was to her as he put on the mask. He smoothed his black hair and suddenly it was almost like he regained his composure. Theresa saw that he was still visibly stiff and when he turned his head to face her, Theresa noticed that there was a deep sadness in his eyes. They dropped down to the ground and Theresa laid a comfortable hand on his shoulder so that he would look up at her.

Instead he moved his shoulder out of her hold and moved back. Theresa looked down at the floor, "I'll give this to the... to the managers then."

He answered shortly, "Good." He took steps backward without taking his eyes off of her and then opened the passageway to let her go through. Theresa furrowed her eyes at the note then at the opened door. "I bid you farewell then." He held his chin up high with much difficulty and didn't look in Theresa's eyes. Theresa gulped before actually walking out of the room to leave him. But she stopped at the doorway before she truly left.

Theresa looked over at him and smiled sadly. But, Erik didn't pay mind to her. Theresa looked down at the ground and then left the room, the door closed quietly behind her. Theresa looked down to see that her sheet music was dropped before. She breathed in sharply and quickly bent down to gather it together.

But as she went down on the ground, she collapsed. Theresa felt water come into her eyes as she touched the pieces of music individually. Her eyes distant as stared at no particular spot on the ground.

Theresa didn't know what to think about what happened. She tried registering it, but it was hard to do just that. She covered her mouth with her hand, she wasn't upset about what he looked like. It startled her... and it was horrifying, but that wasn't what she was upset about. He was human just like her and she could get passed a face like his. But...

She looked down at her wrist that was still red from his grip and then put a hand to her throat where she was choked by him. Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to hold back what was in dire need to come out.

Then a black cane came to where her eyes were staring pointedly at. Theresa gulped, and slowly she looked up with her body now trembling to see that it was Madame Giry looking down at her with her mouth parted. Madame Giry looked down at the girl who quickly gathered the music in her hands and stood up, flustered. Madame Giry didn't know what to say to her as Theresa looked into her eyes with sadness. Sadness, that Madame Giry had never seen before from her.

"I'm... I'm sorry, madame." Theresa put a hand through her hair before she actually held the note tightly in her hands. "I was just..." Theresa wiped her face with her sleeve, awkwardly holding the music in her hand still. She gulped again, as she stuttered nervously, "I-I just was about to go see the managers."

Madame Giry noticed a familiar note in her hand. A worried look crossed her eyes as she glanced at it and then Madame Giry looked into the eyes, this time the hazel eyes of a frightened girl. Madame Giry extended her hand with her palm facing up, "Come, signora," Theresa almost shocked herself when she heard the ballet mistress' voice for once gentle. She was used to hearing Giry scowl at the dancers and her emotionless tone when she talked. "You look frightened. I have something that can take care of that."

Theresa breathed in and out hoarsely and looked down at the note. She hadn't seen it, had she? Her grip on it got tighter and she held everything close to her. She shook her head quickly, "No, no, I have to go see the managers, madame."

"You have no need to worry, Signora Baccelli. He would not harm you if you do not go." Theresa's eyes widened when she said, 'he.' "In fact," Madame Giry brought her hand to the music and slowly brought it down. Theresa had let her. Madame Giry eyed the note knowingly that was there. "I will deliver it for you, if you choose not to."

"But... I—." Madame Giry quickly shushed her, grabbing her hand within hers.

"Just come with me, Theresa, there are things that I must explain to you while the dancers are on break."

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_**You like where I ended it? Cliffhanger! Muahaha, I'm evil. I didn't expect to write the unmasking so soon, but this called for it. However, update will be quicker. It is actually the last completed chapter I have left, so yeah... but the next chapter after that one will be finished (it's going through changes because originally this story had 17 chapters posted, I took away one of them and the 17th, which would have been 16th, is going to be completely changed... halfway through.) Sooo yeah! Like I said, I won't keep you waiting too long. Thank you for reading!**_

_**~Tiana**_


	14. To Stay Away

_**Okay, so here is the last **_**finished****_ written chapter I have. Geez, can you believe that? Well, I hope you enjoy it. Updates should be more quicker now because I have recently decided that it'll be a good idea to focus on one unfinished story at a time. So, I decided to put all my other stories on a hiatus, until this one is finished. Yeah, that's right my little angels of music, I have picked this story out of four to not put on a hiatus. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the new chapter and thank you to those who have reviewed, alerted, and favourited this story, it means a lot to me! :)_**

_**Review Replies"**_

_**A Fan: Thank you for your review and I'm glad to see that you're enjoying it! Hope you enjoy the new update you've been waiting for ;)**_

_**Sandra W: Thank you! :) Well, now your computer has four chapters, hope you enjoy the new update!**_

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_Chapter XIV: To Stay Away_

She waited until Madame Giry returned with word from the managers. She was gone for much longer than Theresa expected, maybe she didn't realize that they would be messes once she arrived. Madame Giry wasn't going to go to them in the first place, but Theresa insisted that she should and deliver the note for her. It took much persuasion on Theresa's part, but Madame Giry soon left with the note before she got to say what she needed to. So a half hour ago, Madame Giry took the note and even Theresa's music (she was going to get the music for Despina for her as well) and left her. The only thing that she had left was a cup of tea, that was untouched.

Nor did Theresa _want _to touch it, but her mouth was dry. Theresa drew in a breath, she needed something stronger _than_ tea, but it would have to do. She slowly reached for the cup, however when she picked it up her hand started to shake uncontrollably. Theresa shook her head quickly and in a flash placed it back with a small splatter coming from it on the red table cloth. "Fanculo." Theresa muttered so low so she wouldn't hear her mother's scowl in her head.

She grabbed a cloth and pressed it down where it splattered. Then she rubbed it in hope that some would be absorbed onto the cloth, but when she removed it the spot on the table cloth grew bigger and more noticeable. Theresa sighed and put the cloth aside. She put a hand to her forehead as it ached and then leaned over the table. When she heard a door opening Theresa's head snapped up to see Madame Giry coming in and closing the door behind her.

Theresa watched in silence as Madame Giry crossed the room to her with her chin up and her back strictly straight. When she was in front of Theresa, she held out the new part for her. A smile crossing her lips as she stated, "Congratulations." Theresa raised her eyebrow before slowly taking the part out of her hands. Madame Giry then sat across the small table. The beams of sunlight coming from the window in her room made her pale skin even paler. She continued, "You have secured the role of Despina in the coming opera."

"Secured?" Theresa inquired, unsure if she heard correctly. Madame Giry nodded curtly to her. Theresa parted her mouth in disbelief. "How, though? Monsieur André told me that I would actually need to try out to secure any role."

"A man like our Phantom has many ways. One of them is, to frighten the wits out of the managers to do what he says," Theresa pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes confused at where this was going. She continued, "You could thank him, maybe, if you want to. It was what he written in the note to them." Theresa didn't control her eyes from widening and her heart swelling in her chest. He did that for her?

Theresa gulped. "That was indeed kind of him," was all she stated and Theresa looked down to her lap, her fingers were suddenly playing with it each other. Theresa sighed before looking up at Madame Giry. The fact that Giry saw her broken down like that before on the ground bothered her a great deal. She _loathed_ the idea that someone, anyone, would have the opportunity to see her like that. "How did Firmin and André take the note?" Theresa asked curiously. Madame Giry raised her eyebrow at her, "When I was going to see them, they seemed stressed..."

Giry nodded. When she had come into their office, she had to say that the sight that she came into was something that she would never want to see the managers in. They were pacing back and forth, muttering under their breath, and from down the hall she could hear them arguing at each other.

She told her, "When they saw me with it, they weren't happy at all, and they were even preparing to leave here. But," the 'but' lightened Theresa's nerves a bit, "I talked them through to staying, saying if they follow what the Phantom says this time and do not go to the police about him, they wouldn't be bothered."

Theresa gave a sigh of relief, "That is good then. I am glad to hear that they are staying." Now, if they remain sane, she would be immensely glad.

"I take it then that you know him?" Madame Giry asked her. Theresa cast her eyes downward at the table immediately.

"Know who?" She asked her quickly. Madame Giry furrowed her brow at her in disbelief and Theresa sighed. She wasn't a good liar as it was with some people now. She barely knew Madame Giry surprisingly since she was her good friend's mother, but they never talked to each other. However she heard stories, that Madame Giry was very observant. "Erik?" Madame Giry nodded to her with a small smile. Theresa pursed her lips and retorted to her, "Then I take it that you know him as well?"

"Yes, I do." She answered. "Him and I go back when I was a young ballerina training in the Opera House. How long have you known the Phant—?"

Theresa cut her off quickly, correcting her, "Erik. His name is Erik." Madame Giry raised her brow at her curiously and Theresa felt uncomfortable suddenly. She cast her eyes downward as she took her tea in her hand and took a quick sip out of it. When she put it down, she looked up at Madame Giry, admitting to her, "I've known him since... well, our _formal_ meeting was the night of the first performance..." Madame Giry pursed her lips, the eyebrow that raised before fell as she folded her hands on her lap. Theresa gulped, seeing that on her face and she made it seem like she was not happy with that answer. Theresa quickly added, "I came to him though, the mirror in my room... it was open for several weeks and then... it closed. So I... I—."

She was cut off by Giry, "You are a curious girl. You travelled through the labyrinth? Alone?" Theresa nodded slowly. She would never forget how much courage she had to muster up for that journey. She did so many twists and turns to get down below and she remembered that she almost fell in a trap on the way. She heeded his warning, to never do that again, she doubted that now she would ever see him again. "You did what most dare not to. You are a brave _and_ curious girl."

"And naïve." She admitted, but mostly to herself. Madame Giry didn't hear her however and Theresa prided herself on that. Madame Giry heard _many_ things. Theresa debated if she should tell her what had happened between her and Erik for the last couple of weeks, or at least a month. But instead she told her, "Don't turn him in, madame." Madame Giry furrowed her brow. Her eyes perked interestedly. She just find the girl broken on the floor because of him and she wanted to protect him _still_. Who wouldn't be interested by that? "Please, he didn't do anything wrong to be turned in... he's a good man, I can swear by it."

"You care for him, do you not?" Theresa's face fell as she nodded slowly to Madame Giry. She never thought of it as being caring toward the man. Madame Giry found this intriguing. "Even after you—."

"That's in the past, madame." She said again quickly. "I met him after that."

"It at all did not disturb you what had happened at the Opera House before the fire?" Madame Giry asked her curiously. Giry knew about the managers' intentions on keeping this quiet from Theresa, but she knew that Theresa would find out from the workers' mouth. From her experience, the gossip in the _Opera Populaire_ went around faster than it would in all of France. Theresa remained silent as she looked down again at her tea. Or maybe, she didn't understand it all.

Madame Giry didn't question her on how much she really knew. She only remained quiet and folded her hands on the skirt of her black dress. Theresa closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up into Madame Giry's eyes. Theresa... was apprehensive about what she knew. She didn't know if what she knew was the actual truth. She didn't know the relationship between Erik and Christine at all, only that he was obsessed... but the origin of that obsession... she had not a clue. She wasn't horrified about the murders in the Opera House, she might not have known the full detail to it at all.

Hesitantly, she admitted to her, "I actually... don't know to the fullest of what happened." Madame Giry only blinked and she nodded to her. That didn't surprise her. She didn't expect to hear anything other than that and if she did, then Madame Giry would be surprised. There weren't many men and women who worked there, not even her own daughter, who was a good friend of Christine's, that knew what happened. "I..." Theresa sighed, "I asked your daughter about it and she didn't know much about it either."

"I am not surprised. What happened six years ago took a toll on all that worked here, such a toll that many were enraged when there were only a handful of people who knew what truly happened and wouldn't give them the answers that they had asked plenty of times for. Marguerite, including."

"And which one of those two types are you, madame?" Theresa asked her curiously. "The type that truly knew what happened?"

Madame Giry shook her head no, but she stated to Theresa, "However, I know most things." Theresa stared blankly at Madame Giry. How many things did she exactly know? She began to wonder. But the two didn't say a word to each other, not one after that. The silence wasn't comfortable. Theresa felt awkward sitting across from her, so awkward that she wanted to leave. But she didn't want to be rude, she stayed in her seat. Theresa slowly picked up her tea and took a slow sip out of it as well. Theresa pursed her lips as she put it back, she didn't know what to say to her.

"I..." Theresa closed her eyes for a moment. This was her chance for answers! Why wasn't she asking what she wanted to know so badly? Like, why Christine? What was so special that the Phantom... Erik had obsessed over? His face... did Madame Giry knew about what he truly looked like? When she opened her eyes again, she tried to say something, though a cold touch from Madame Giry touched her hand.

Theresa found Madame Giry's eyes looking at hers with concern. Out of instinct, she gulped and Theresa went to take her hand away from her, but Madame Giry held it down tighter. "Theresa," her voice was gentle, just as gentle as it sounded since she found her on that floor. "What was Erik doing that upset you before?"

"He didn't... he didn't do any—."

"Do not lie to me, Theresa." Her tone was motherly and stern at the same time. So stern that it gave Theresa chills up her spine. "What was it?"

"It wasn't him," Theresa said to her. She tried to remain her ground, it _wasn't _him. He didn't do anything to her, it was her that started what had happened. If she hadn't... done what she had done than it wouldn't have happened... would it? "He didn't do anything..."

"Are you sure?" Madame Giry inquired sceptically, her eyebrows knitted together with her eyes narrowed at Theresa. She didn't believe her at all. Madame Giry knew better than that because she knew Erik, and she knew that Theresa was there with Erik because of the note. Did Theresa actually think that she could get this past her? Theresa didn't answer right away, instead her jaw tensed and she cast her eyes to the floor to avoid Giry's narrowed eyes. She repeated, "Theresa, are you sure?"

"I'm... I'm positive." Theresa hardly looked up at Madame Giry. It wasn't because she was lying like Giry had thought, but it was mostly because she was going over what _actually _had happened. "I'm... absolutely sure. What happened was..." she looked up at her, "it was my fault, Madame Giry. Erik didn't do anything." Her eyes looked genuine, but Madame Giry didn't quite believe her still.

"Then what happened?" She asked her then. Theresa frowned, her jaw tensed even more. She didn't want to tell Madame Giry but the narrowed, brown eyes that belonged to her were staring right into Theresa's. Theresa felt the words coming down her tongue, she felt like she was being interrogated to get the answer was. But the only way Madame Giry was practically interrogating her was with her eyes.

Theresa drew in a deep breath. She admitted to Madame Giry, "What happened... was that he... gave me the note and I didn't want to give it to the managers." Half the truth was good enough for her. But Madame Giry's eyes narrowed at her even more, and Theresa now really wanted to just leave. "I, uh," Theresa gulped, "Him and I got into a minor argument... of which, I," Theresa closed her eyes as she felt her throat coming together, choking her almost. Her eyes behind her closed lids began to water and tears slipped out underneath them, rolling slowly down her cheek as she recapped.

Theresa opened her eyes and she saw a dismayed expression coming on Madame Giry's face, her look softened once Theresa started to tell Madame Giry what had happened. She even let go of her hand. Theresa took it back and folded them both on top of her lap. Her eyes moved away from Madame Giry's to the cup of tea. Distantly, she continued, "I slapped him, but his mask..." Madame Giry's face fell once she mentioned his mask. She hoped that the worst for her hadn't happened.

Theresa never stated what had happened to his mask. Instead, she touched her face, the side that on Erik's face would be distorted. She ignored the tears that fell on her fingers as she had done this. Theresa said to her, "His... his face. I... I hardly expected what was behind that mask. I... I-I didn't even think about it." Madame Giry pursed her lips and then looked to the tea on the table.

Theresa's leg was starting to shake uncontrollably under the table. The tea was shaking along with it. Theresa didn't notice until Madame Giry got up from her chair and took Theresa's cup off of the table. Theresa looked over at her and Madame Giry touched her arm lightly, another motherly touch, "You do not need this tea like I thought you would need it." With that, Madame Giry walked off, leaving Theresa in her seat. Madame Giry placed the tea cup on another table.

Soon, Theresa stood up as well, flattening her dress of any wrinkles that might be there from sitting. She waited a moment, Madame Giry was standing by that other table with her back turned away from Theresa. Without any control, Theresa said to her, "Madame Giry," even standing behind her, facing her back, Theresa could see the woman purse her lips, her eyes being cast down onto the black wood of the table.

"I know you know about it," Theresa wiped the tears away now. She didn't need any more of those tears being wasted on something she didn't know why she was crying about it. She didn't pity him. She didn't pity him at all, and if there was an ounce of her feeling bad for him it would be what he might have gone through because of it. It wasn't his fault. Theresa believed that if he received the right kind attention, he wouldn't have done what he had done in the past. Madame Giry didn't turn to face her.

She finally gained the courage to ask what she wanted to ask. "What happened? I mean, how did it start... with Christine?" Theresa gripped her own hands tightly as she asked that. She didn't realize how much she really wanted to know about this. Theresa never felt so nervous to receive an answer about Christine and she knew that Madame Giry would be the one who knew more about this, though she tried to say that she didn't know most, Theresa didn't exactly believe her. Madame Giry still had her back facing Theresa.

Though Theresa could see her contemplating to tell her. She tried to peer over her shoulder from where she was, and she saw Madame Giry's eyes close. Theresa stood there waiting for Madame Giry to say something, anything that could be mustered from her mouth. "If I am to tell you, I might have to start from the beginning, Theresa. Sit back down and I will tell you." As Madame Giry turned slowly on her heel, Theresa frowned and then quickly took back her seat.

"I have told you before," she started with, her eyes on the floor with her hands folded on her lap. "I have known the Phantom for a long time, since my ballet training here, in this very same Opera House. I was a ballerina." Her eyes began to water as she looked back up and directly in Theresa's eyes. Theresa felt her chest tighten as she looked into them. Madame Giry crossed the room to the table again and took her seat again, across from Theresa. "There was a travelling circus in town... gypsies. There were tumblers, conjurers, and human... oddities.

"I remember, and I shall never forget, a man... calling us over to him. There... there was a boy locked up in a cage." Theresa's eyes widened when she heard that. Madame Giry continued, though Theresa wished she hadn't, "They had called him 'Devil's Child' and he had a sack over his... his face. He was filthy, as well and looked to be almost starved by them. The man went into the cage and took off that sack and... and it was nothing like I have ever seen. It wasn't of man... his face. It was... it was—."

"Deformed?" Theresa asked her.

Madame Giry nodded to her quickly her eyes growing more distant as she spoke, "From birth it seemed. The man that brought us to him started to whip him and some actually found entertainment out of that... the abuse of the little boy. I felt sympathy for him. When the man threw him on the ground and everyone left, I stayed there for a while. How could someone treat a boy so badly because of how he looked, I have no idea, but what I didn't notice was... was Erik making a noose out of rope and... and right when I was about to leave... he... he murdered the man that kept him in that cage.

"What was I supposed to do?" Madame Giry said. Theresa looked to be horrified by what she was hearing. But she continued to listen, "Leave him to be caught for murdering a man that caused him so much... humiliation? I helped. I helped him escape before he would get caught and hid him away in this Opera House. And he remained here since then. He is an artist, a magician, architect, composer, a genius." Madame Giry wiped a tear coming down her cheek, both of her cheeks were wet, too. Theresa didn't say anything yet.

"What happened in the years that I left and married, I do not know. But when I came back to be a ballet mistress he was here and I became his... as you may know it as, a middleman for him and the manager, delivering notes and bringing him food.

"Christine Daae came a few years later into my care. Her father died when she was seven, so I had taken her in as a ballerina in training. Then... then that was when it started, I knew the beginning of it, yes, Erik began to teach her how to sing, so she could become Prima Dona herself in the future. It was never intended for what was to come later on, but along that time... Erik had grown fond of her... and soon he found that he... he loved her by the time of her first performance in Hannibal." Theresa sat there, not speaking a single word. She gave Madame Giry her full attention.

"That night, I knew what he was planning and had me deliver a red rose to her..." Theresa looked downward at the wood, that was why she was suspicious of Theresa's rose. But hers wasn't red, it was white, the both of them. "And he brought her down to his lair, I don't know what happened there and he returned her the next morning and he wrote notes to everyone, the managers, the former Prima Dona, La Carlotta, and the Vicomte de Chagny, who was fancying Christine. He ordered the managers to have Christine as the lead and Carlotta as the silent role of Il Muto.

"But despite the warnings my daughter and I gave, they didn't listen to us, and they made Carlotta the lead even though he threatened to ruin the performance." Madame Giry actually chuckled lightly with a smirk, Theresa didn't see what was funny about a threat. "And he followed through with that threat like he did with many and gotten Christine to play the lead lady. Though, you might know this, it was the first incident that followed many and this one Erik murdered the chief of the flies, Joseph Buquet. The reason, I do not know, but he disappeared for three months. We hadn't heard word of him. Not even I. The notes stopped coming and there was no havoc that was around the Opera House.

"That was until the Masquerade for the new year. He made his appearance there, though he was in a mask we knew it was him, we all knew it was him. He came to deliver the opera he wrote, _Don Juan Triumphant _and he saw Christine with a ring around her neck... she... she was engaged to be married with the Vicomte. He disappeared, taking it off her neck before he did, and Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny, went after him, I got to him before he could be killed. But soon he came out with this irrational idea.

"To use Christine to capture the Phantom. She didn't want to do it, it was the last thing she wanted to do and with much persuasion by Raoul she continued on it." Theresa looked back up at Madame Giry with a frown on her face. What was the plan though? "They were planning to perform the opera and they barded the doors with the authorities to make sure he didn't escape. Erik was a smart man though. When the opera started, the usual tenor Ubaldo Piangi started as Don Juan. The audience was displeased, the opera was nothing that they had heard... ever. Not many were fond of it, not even the performers.

"Sometime during the beginning, he swapped himself with Piangi and took the role as Don Juan himself. Most of the audience and the people backstage hardly noticed until it was too late and he sung with Christine. I watched this myself and I knew that it was Erik the moment he stepped out onto that stage and how they both sung that song it was... you could hear the emotions through the music. When it was over, he asked Christine to spend her life with him and in response, she took off his mask and wig, which revealed him to everyone.

"There was chaos everywhere on stage. Piangi was murdered by him and Erik took Christine for himself and dropped into the stage, bringing the chandelier down with him. The Opera House went into flames and I helped Raoul to find where he resides." Theresa pursed her lips as she quietly listened to this, but she didn't want to listen to any more. The problem was she didn't know what to be bothered of more. The fact that what everyone said about Erik was really true or the fact that Christine betrayed the man that taught her everything about singing and loved her?

"Meg knew as well where he was and she led the authorities and other performers to him. I wouldn't go... I wasn't going to dare to see him like that. Though, Erik wasn't found there all that was left of him was his white mask and all of his belongings. Christine and Raoul had gotten away and he took her away from Paris for a long time to forget what had happened and now... here we are."

Theresa sat there speechless and she suddenly felt her head ache after what she had been told. _This is a lot to take in_, she thought to herself. Theresa mouth was dry and she began to wonder what she wanted to ask Madame Giry then. Did she leave the Phantom for Raoul? Obviously, she did, but what had happened in his lair? Theresa suddenly had the notion in her head that Christine chose him over Erik, but the reason she didn't know. The silence that occurred between Madame Giry and Theresa was never so loud, Theresa sat there with her thoughts running wild.

Why would she leave him? She didn't love him... was it because... was it because of his face that she left him? Theresa gulped, Erik had gone through so much in his life because of how he looked that it was almost sickening. She only couldn't get over how the gypsies treated him, from what she was told by Emile it was accurate with what she knew, and until the ending it didn't come as surprise.

He didn't think that... she thought that he was a monster because of what happened between them now, did he? Theresa's face fallen as that thought went through her head. "I have to talk to him," she said finally. Madame Giry only looked at her incredulously as Theresa brought her eyes to hers. "I... I have to talk to him now." She stood up quickly and went to leave the room.

Madame Giry stood up and just as quickly grabbed her arm tightly in her grasp to stop her. "No, Theresa, you cannot." Theresa turned her head sharply at Madame Giry. "You have to stay _away_ from him now."

"Stay away?" Theresa asked her in disbelief. She shook her head no quickly, "No, no, I can't do that."

"You have to do that." Madame Giry insisted. "He is not himself right now and if he sees you he would be even more angry than he was before." Theresa stared at her and gritted her teeth aggravated. No, she had to go see him and talk to him at the very least. Not stay here and listen to this. Theresa shook her head no defiantly and went to walk away when the grip on her arm only became tighter. Theresa was brought to Madame Giry again.

She said to her, "I can't stay away from him, madame." Her voice was edgy and determined as well. Madame Giry almost didn't think that she could drive Theresa away from what she was thinking. But then she remembered that she was just as determined as this girl. "It's not something that I intend on doing now or ever. And even if he doesn't like it then he has to deal with it."

"Theresa, you have to stay away for now." Madame Giry told her sternly. Theresa's face fell once she saw something in the blonde's eyes glimmer. "He is not himself and he has to be beside himself. He is not the best to anger and he is hard to talk out of that anger if you put him in that state. If you want to talk to him, you will just have to wait, but not now, Theresa." Theresa stared hard into Madame Giry's eyes for a while before she thrashed her arm out of Madame Giry's grip. Madame Giry narrowed her eyes at her.

That was what seemed to do the trick. Theresa closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up at the ceiling in exasperation almost. She couldn't just stay away from him... could she? Maybe just for a little while. Theresa asked her, her voice cracking, "How long?"

"A month, maybe two." Madame Giry replied. Theresa looked down at the floor before she nodded slowly in agreement. Madame Giry breathed in slowly and then went to get the music she had retrieve for her off the table. Theresa watched her as she did this. "You cannot forget—."

"Did you see him at all?" The question caught her off guard and she looked at Theresa almost in surprise. Theresa repeated it to her, "Madame, did you see him since... you know?"

Madame Giry hesitated for a moment before nodding to her. "Y-Yes, yes, I have been to see him the night of the first performance in his box."

"Did you..." Theresa trailed off with her question, unsure of how Madame Giry would actually respond to it. "Did you have any intent on giving him to the authorities?"

Madame Giry arched her brow once she had heard this. What had brought Theresa to ask this to her? She inquired back, "Why are you asking that?"

"I am... I am only curious." She said to her.

Madame stared at her for a moment before closing her eyes. Did she want to bring him to the authorities? She only warned him that if he had gotten near Theresa that he would, but did she really want to do it when he would? Madame Giry opened her eyes and shook her head no to her. She would have a hard time doing that to Erik now and even before. Madame Giry then handed Theresa's music, which she slowly took out of her hands and into her own. Theresa pursed her lips and nodded before she actually left the room this time, leaving Madame Giry to her thoughts.

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_**Thank you for reading and to the feedback I have received. It is all appreciated :). I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter! And hopefully next update will come soon. It's already 75% done and it will be out by next Friday, I have decided to update it every Friday as well. And I think... this story will actually have only ten chapters left with an epilogue. Hope you enjoyed and see you next time!**_


	15. You are Not Alone

_**See? Told you next Friday? :) Okay, thank you to everyone that shown their support for last chapter! You guys may recognize part of this chapter, so it isn't entirely new, but it is **_**mostly ****_new. I think you will all enjoy it and especially the ending ;) Hope you enjoy!_**

_**Review Replies: **_

_**A Fan: Thank you so much! :D I'm glad you are enjoying it a lot, and I think you will enjoy this chapter. Let's just say... she may probably do what you mentioned you would do in your review in this chapter ;) Hope you enjoy!**_

_**RedDeathLvr: Thank you so much :) Hope you like the coming new chapters, as well as this one! Enjoy!**_

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_Chapter XV: You are Not Alone_

_She was running. The crunch of the wood crackled under her heels and the wind howled past her ears. She stopped a moment to look up, the tall trees heightened so high, she could hardly see the greyish black sky above. She hunched over and touched the fabric on top of her knees while panting. She was out of shape, she never ran. She was graceful, and her mother had told her when she was younger, __"__Ragazze agire grazioso, i ragazzi si comportano come selvaggie correre all'impazzata metà del tempo." __Girls act graceful, boys act like savages and run half the time. Though she doubted this highly before, she now believed her mother's words, running is a boy's doing, though running away is a more savage like thing to do._

_When she removed her hands, she saw the blood blotches on the fabric from her hands._

_There was blood on her hands. _

_She slowly held them up as she saw the red, fine blood that once pumped through someone's veins on her hands. She then looked down at herself to see that she was in a costume. A... a costume? Yes, a white and black gown that looked what a circus person would wear... practically anyway. What was going through her mind when she picked out this to wear?_

_Theresa slowly looked to her left to see a mirror dangling on a tree, her reflection looking back at her. Her eyes widened from what she was seeing and cautiously she moved toward the mirror. The black mask on her face was lopsided on her, and the blood on her face was dried up on her bottom lip to her chin. It came down to her neck and was lightly smudged onto the bodice of her dress. There were even splatters of blood on her mask, it seemed more fresh though._

_Theresa locked eyes with her reflection and tilted her head to the side. What had happened to her? And then she yelped when she felt a large hand on her back and turned around only to gasp. But a gloved finger was placed on her lips as she was shushed, the gasp along with it. Theresa stared up at green eyes and the finger dropped from her mouth, a hand was extended out to her. "Theresa..." his voice was so melodic, so hypnotizing to her now. It was relief for her to hear it, now more than ever. Maybe he could shed some light on why she looked like this, what was happening right now. She looked down to his hand and looked back into his eyes. He instructed, "Take it."_

_She stared at him for a moment before looking down at her hands and her... her dress. Theresa staggered backward, her back hitting the bark of the tree where the mirror hanged. The mirror went away, she didn't hear it break as her back hit the tree, so she assumed it went away. Her breathing became rough. She stared down, her eyes locked upon the red suddenly bleeding into her dress. She didn't feel like she actually was_ in _this sort of pain to bleed this much. Theresa tried to wipe it off as fast as she can. It wouldn't go away. _

_She imagined that there was water there to help her, any water that would help her make this blood wash away. But more only came the more she rubbed on it. Her ears were ringing, the ringing was so loud. Theresa went to grab the hand that was extended to her before, but she was only grabbing at thin air. The gloved hand disappear, along with Erik's hypnotic green eyes. Theresa parted her mouth in horror as she heard voices in her ear. _

_A particular voice was louder than all of them. _

_Theresa held her ears together to close them out, but it didn't work, they only became louder and that one voice, that single voice, was louder than all of them combined. "Stop it..." she whimpered. She couldn't take it any more! "Please... stop it." The more she said, 'stop it' the more she wanted it to stop! They weren't going to. Theresa groaned as the pressure just filled her eyes. She heard someone scowling, she heard someone loving and caring, she heard someone yell at her and call her names. A loud smack even filled her ears. Theresa closed her eyes tightly, but flashes of when she was a child until this very year in Paris came through._

_There were also images that she never even seen. Horrible images that one would want to hide from like a child would. She finally let go of her ears to look up in the sky, her eyes were still closed and she yelled out in the sky. Her yell was desperate enough to stop all the voices, but one._

"_I never said the fun would ever be spoiled, my lady." Theresa's eyes snapped open. _

Theresa gasped as she sat up in her bed. Sweat was collecting along her brow as she was breathing heavily, her chest going up and down. Theresa gulped before she took a look down herself. She was in her nightgown, her plain, white night gown that looked absolutely nothing like the white and black dress... or costume that she saw herself wearing. There was no blood on it either, what a relief. Theresa put a hand through her hair. She held her hands out in front of her, there was nothing on them, no red. No... blood... Thank God, that was even a bigger relief.

Theresa closed her eyes before she shifted herself so that her legs were dangling off her bed, her feet lightly touched the ground. She cradled her forehead in her hands as she shook her head in disbelief. That voice.

Theresa opened her eyes, they strained in the dark and it was still very late. She stood up slowly and took a match in her hand. Against its box, she moved the match against it, only to be greeted with just enough light. She lit the nearest candle to her so she could have just a bit of light to walk to her vanity.

She didn't sit down on its bench, she only went down on her knees to see herself in the mirror ignoring the vanity's bench. Theresa looked every aspect of normal. She pressed her hand on the mirror, then on her face. It was a dream. A dream that sounded and even looked too real. Theresa stood straight up slowly and took her robe off of the bench. She threw it on quickly before she went into the trunk in front of her bed. She gathered up random pieces of music and pressed them against her chest, straightening them out before going over to her candle. Sleep wouldn't just come to her tonight, she felt.

Theresa opened the door to go out in the hallway, immediately the breeze from it hit her like there was a window opened in front of her. She breathed in through her nose slowly before her barefoot made it to the cold floor. Theresa peered out, looking to her left and then to her right, there was not even a sound. She brought her heel down and then took several quiet steps to awkwardly close the door. She only had a few nights like this, the way to the practice room was somewhat blurry, she hadn't been there since the day before the auditions six days ago.

She gulped as her eyes scanned around her, her careful step was more than quiet when she stepped. The only thing that would give her away was the candle that she held.

She wasn't exactly going slow either.

Theresa eventually found herself at the practice room. A smile made it to her face and she held the music under her arm before opening the door. She shut it slowly and when she heard a slight click from the door, she rushed to the piano sitting against the wall peacefully and untouched. Theresa looked behind her shoulder, she needed to clear her head after that slight dream for before. The voice... though... it never left and it repeated the same words in her ear.

What did it mean? And she knew exactly who it was who had said the only coherent thing she heard in her dream... or nightmare. Henri's.

She hadn't even given him a thought or anything lately, not even a side glance. However she did avoid him like the black plague, maybe that was why...

Theresa shook her head, she didn't need to think about this. She shuffled through her music, looking for a piece that appealed to her. None. Theresa then went to the one at the bottom, there was no title on it. Theresa looked around herself before she placed it delicately on top of the piano's stand. Would _he_ come if he heard her? Theresa hoped that he would... she wanted to talk to him, him above anyone else.

Slowly she placed her hands along the smooth keys, she actually remembered the melody from that night, but the only difference was he added several flourishes. His piece was romantic and gentle, even the harmony. Theresa started to hum it to herself as she continued to play, she smiled lightly at it. Theresa didn't even notice how loud she was playing it, she was completely ignoring the soft changes in dynamics.

She stopped though abruptly in the middle. Her hands slipping off the keys of the piano as she stared at the piece of music in front of her. Theresa didn't seem to understand why she stopped in the first place. Why would she stop playing something so beautiful right in the middle of it? Theresa flexed her fingers again and then pressed them together until she could hear her knuckles crack. She pursed her lips and looked to her right to see ink and a quill waiting there for her. She shuffled the pages to the first one and then took the quill out of its ink.

Theresa wrote on the top of it in the most perfect cursive that she could muster, _L'amore in una rosa_. She took the quill back and smiled gently to herself as she put the quill back in its place. He was right. The name would come to her if she played it. She tilted her head up and took the music off the stand on the top of the piano. She held her robe tighter against her chest and then pressed the music to it as she got up and moved around the bench. She went to the door and opened it quietly, but closed it loudly. Not really caring what sort of noise she was going to make.

She wanted to be noticed. By him especially. She skimmed her hand on the wall as she walked through the shadows of the hallway. Unlike her step before, her step was more rushed. Theresa's hand searched for any sort of depression, any way to get her through to the start of the labyrinth other than the one in her room. She knew there were plenty of other ways, other pathways she could take.

She had to go see him. Even if she had to venture into the tunnels alone, she would do it. She didn't care if she got hurt, Theresa felt as though that this was something that she had to do. When Theresa felt a depression, she gathered up her skirts and clutched the music tighter against her robe. She felt for a doorknob so she could let herself through, but when her hand pressed against the door fully, she heard the wall suddenly move back.

Theresa yelped as she stumbled through almost dropping the music in her hands as she hit against it. But immediately, Theresa straightened up and moved though the small opening that was left for her. Theresa saw a torch already lit up, like the torch was waiting for her to grab. Theresa gulped to herself and had the urge to turn around and leave, but she was not going to do that. She pushed the wall back to its place from behind and gathered her skirts tighter. No matter how she wanted to move though, she was frozen in her place, staring blankly forward. Theresa shook her head.

She dropped her skirts and grabbed the off the wall. She lit the long path that she had to walk through, cob webs were spun at the columns that held other torches and she even saw a mouse looking at her with wide eyes. Maybe she wasn't the only that was in here before. A torch lit now must mean that it was just lit. She turned her head slightly at the way she just came in... did he leave out of here before?

Theresa didn't have time to question, frankly. Instead of pondering whether or not Erik had used this tunnel before her, she pressed on ahead, looking forward and carefully walking through to not step in anything. The tunnels were for some reason cold and damp, when outside she knew that it was warm and dry since it was July. Theresa used the light to guide her, and here and there she caught herself looking down at her feet.

She had no idea where she was going, or maybe what she was doing. Now she understood why Erik didn't want her going through these alone, their dangerous if you didn't know where you re going. Her hand skimmed the walls of the tunnel to help her see where to turn and whether or not the wall would dip down indicating steps. Maybe Erik did use this before, she didn't come up to any of his traps yet. With this realization, Theresa calmed down a bit, ceasing being cautious with her step and paying less attention to where she stepped.

Halfway through she began humming Erik's song to herself. Speaking of his music, it was currently scrapping against the wall of the tunnel as her hand that held it skimmed. She slowly dropped that hand reluctantly so now the light was her only guide.

Just then, her foot stepped on something that definitely was not supposed to be there. Theresa gasped loudly and both the music and the torch dropped as Theresa fell through the floor of the tunnel. Theresa fell on the top of a cold hard ground, the torch still aflame and the music falling right beside her. She quickly grabbed the music seeing the fire from the torch and scrambled on the top of her feet, scooping the torch's handle tightly in her hand. Theresa suddenly felt her chest compressing together, she began to breathe heavily as a sweat started to begin on the top of her forehead.

Her eyes scanned quickly around her, it looked like an empty room to her. Nothing was really in sight and the fire on the torch dulled from before. "Erik!" She screamed loudly, her voice trembling slight from fear. She didn't know if she would be heard though. But she _did_ hear something. Theresa's eyes slowly widened as she slowly turned her head to where she heard something beginning to move forward. She kept her eyes there before she heard on the other side the same noise of something distinctly moving toward her. Theresa felt her breathing get more laboured as she moved her eyes upward to the hole that she fell through.

"Erik!" She called for him even more loudly before frantically looking around herself. The walls in this room below were beginning to close in on her, trapping her even more. Theresa searched for a way to get out of this room, looking for some sort of door that would take her away from here. "Erik!" She yelled even more loudly. "Please, help me!"

There was no response. Theresa couldn't believe how naïve she was for even coming to see him without him leading her. How stupid could she be? He warned her that she shouldn't wonder by herself in these tunnels. Why didn't she listen? Now, she could actually _die_ down here because she didn't listen. For some reason, Theresa could see him not coming at all even if he heard her. He was so cross with her the last time they saw each other, so _upset_, that she doubted that he would come. She didn't react the best way at first toward him... she would admit that and she was sorry for that.

Theresa had stopped calling for him and braced herself for whatever it was that was coming for her. She tried to grip to reality, she tried to steer away from negative thoughts. If the Phantom wasn't going to help her right now, because he couldn't hear her or because he didn't care for her, she was going to get out of here herself. Theresa took a deep breath through her nose to try and calm herself. The walls closing in on her were moving slowly, as if they wanted her to get out from between them.

She tried to think like Erik. She knew that there would be traps that he would put in so people would steer away from his lair, but she also knew that there was always a way out of the trap. Theresa quickly strode forward, not daring to look at the walls that were closing in on her. She was taking a chance, a brave chance, a foolish chance. How could she even go through with it? Theresa's face went hard with determination as she quickly ran to the end of the room,

She looked for something along the wall, an edge that could bring her out. Theresa desperately dropped both the torch and the music as she ran her hands over the wall, searching for a depression or a crack in the wall that would be the beginning of the door. "Come on!" She shouted tearfully, her eyes were beginning to well up with water as she began to feel more panicked. Theresa felt her face twist as she began to bang on the wall. The banging repeated as she continued growing more and more frustrated. The walls that were moving were coming quickly together now.

With one final punch of her fist, Theresa let out a strangled yell, "No! Let me out, please!" Theresa knew that there wasn't anyone there. She knew that these were going to be her last moments. Tears streamed down her face as she felt herself facing defeat. Her head fell forward as she closed her eyes tightly enough as if wishing that this would just end right now. She let out a loud sob as her fist weakly now banged again on the door, towards the side of it.

This was obviously not the way out. Theresa didn't pay mind to the walls any more as she allowed her hand out of its fist to touch the door with her palm. She opened her mouth as she continued to cry out like a little girl again. Her cheeks were soaking wet and around her closed eyes her skin was swollen and red. "Erik..." She whispered while her body shook. She pressed her palm against the wall even hard, her olive skin turning white as she did this. "I cannot stay here, I _cannot_." She murmured, sniffling as she pressed her lips together. Another sob was trying to force itself out, but she tried to hold it in, her body shaking as she did so.

"Theresa!" Theresa parted her mouth as her eyes flew open. She stood there at first frozen in her place before she slowly turned around to see Erik gritting his teeth. The dim lighting the torch gave off showed his menacing figure right now, how his fists were balled and how his features were crinkled at her in anger. It didn't stop her heart though from racing rapidly. The walls were continuing to close in on them, but Erik didn't budge just yet. Theresa didn't say a word to him as he began to finally stride toward her, his long strides toward her almost made him seem not _real_ to her.

Was this real? Or was she just imagining him? Theresa quickly bent down to swipe the music she brought with her on the ground before rising up to face Erik again. It was real. Because when Erik took her free wrist tightly in his hand, she could feel his anger that was coursing through him on the top of her skin. Without a word, Erik dragged her forward and his pace became a lot quicker as he took her to the other side of the room. Theresa absently stumbled over her feet as Erik tugged her along, her eyes were on the back of his head almost mesmerized by him right now.

The walls continued to close in on them, but she knew now that she was going to be fine because now Erik came for her. He pushed on the wall toward the top, as if it was a certain button, and just by his simple and light touch, the door showed itself. By the edge of it, Erik pried it open with his other hand with a grunt. The wall/door opened then for them and Erik dragged Theresa through it.

Theresa held the music close to her chest as Erik pushed her to the side when they were on the other side of the door. Theresa still didn't say anything, not making any other sound. She just stood there just as before, her eyes focused on him as he closed the door they went through. Theresa's eyes moved from the top of his black hair to the shoes that he wore. He was here. The Phantom of the Opera. Erik. He was here with her... and Theresa could have never been happier. Theresa could have smiled at him when the door closed, she could have kissed him or hugged him... or do something other than stand there in silence, but Erik didn't even _turn_ to look at her.

He didn't even acknowledge her presence as he stood there, breathing heavily as his gloved hands were both pressed onto the door he just closed. Theresa felt the moisture nervously gather in her mouth, she gulped whatever she could before she dared herself to take a step forward. The tears that were streaming down her cheeks dried and she felt her hand actually shaking as she went to go to touch his shoulder. She didn't know if it was from fear, or just because of her shock that he actually came, but it subsided once she laid it there.

She felt Erik wince from her touch like she had hurt him when she laid her hand there, but he didn't move away from her. Instead he slowly turned his head toward her. Theresa shifted to her right to get a better look at his face, to see it fully. She expected the same angry look to be on it, but to her surprise, when his green eyes found her hazel eyes, his face went soft. Although, she could see that the rest of his body was very much tense.

She waited for him to say something to her, to respond to her in any sort of way. She didn't want to do anything without hearing his melodic voice that she had missed. It didn't take long for her to hear it, and the pain around her wrist that she felt before when he grabbed happened again. Erik took her hand off of him, the soft look slipping out of his eyes and being replaced with a look of pure fury. His gloved hand enclosed her wrist tightly within his hand, startling Theresa for a moment. She seethed through her teeth as Erik moved her a step back away from him.

"You insolent, stupid girl," Erik growled to her through his teeth. Theresa could hear the hatred slipping through his tone. "Do you know what could have just happened? Do you know what you just did?" He asked her angrily, shaking her wrist and forcing her more backward. Theresa didn't say a word. Instead she looked up at Erik with her hazel eyes and kept her mouth pursed. "I _told_ you to never come down here, to never wander around these tunnels without _me_, and yet you do so! What was going through your head, Theresa? What?"

His grip grew tighter around her wrist, Theresa could feel his anger as she tried to thrash it out. "Let go of me." She told him calmly, twisting and turning her wrist to get it out of his hold.

He ignored, increasing his grip on her as she tried to get it out. He shouted at her, Theresa through the darkness could have sworn that she saw a vein actually pop out on the unmasked side of his face. "You could have died! Do you not understand that, girl? Are you too foolish to understand that?"

She grunted when she tried to take her wrist out of his hold again. Theresa felt herself gather all of her strength and actually growing angry as well for how he was speaking to her. She snapped out of that daze she found herself in moments ago upon seeing him for the first time in weeks. Theresa finally thrashed her arm out of Erik's hold, her wrist throbbed because of where he gripped her. "Yes, I do understand what I did, and yes I do know that it was foolish of me, Erik." She said to him in a low, cold tone as her other hand went to rub her wrist to soothe the throbbing. "But I had to see you and you weren't around to take me, so I took matters in my own hands. It was a mistake."

Though she kept her tone low and steady, Theresa felt herself shaking. It wasn't from fear, nor was it from anger. In fact, the reason for this shaking was unknown to her. She rubbed her wrist while her arm did its best to keep the music close to her chest. Theresa found herself glaring at him when he began to narrow her eyes back at her. He didn't make a reply. "Thank you for saving me," Theresa said to him shortly.

"You're welcome, Signora." Erik replied to her, equally short and almost in a growling sort of way. Theresa pressed her lips together, looking him up and down. She debated on what she should say to him next, not really sure. When she began to think to herself, her hazel eyes landed on the gold chain that hid underneath his black cloak. She caught a glimpse of it and her face almost fell, however, she didn't say a word of acknowledgement about it. Erik inquired to her, "You said you had to see me?"

"Yes, I did." Theresa tried not to soften her face a little bit after he asked her that. She thought that he would have yelled or shouted at her with hate and anger again, but he didn't. She took a deep breath before she held out his music to him. Erik broke his eye contact with her to look down at it with his brow furrowing. "I found the title. It only took one sitting." Erik slowly reached out his hand to grab it out of her hand. Theresa noticed a look of shock take over his face as he took it from her.

She wasn't even sure if that was what she saw, but she heard the shock in his voice, "You played this?" He sounded almost shocked that she played it before. Theresa nodded her head to him slowly, not sure how she should feel with him being shocked over that. "But why would... I never thought..."

"You never thought what?" Theresa prompted to him, tilting her head and looking at him confused. He stared down at his music, holding it with both of his hands and looking down at it. His green eyes reading over each and every note before they finally fell on the title written on the top. Theresa suddenly came to realize it. "You thought that I wouldn't keep to my promise? Because of what happened...?"

"You were told to stay away from me," Erik stated to her as if it was explanation enough for her. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him now confused as her eyebrow crinkled. "I heard you and Madame Giry talking." It was as if Erik had just read her mind, answering her unspoken question. Did he hear everything of that talk she had with Madame Giry two weeks ago? She wanted to ask him that but she was afraid of hearing the answer.

She gulped silently before she gained the courage to ask him, "How much did you hear of our talk?"

"Every word, which is why I thought that you really would stay away from me." Erik said to her, slowly looking up at her. Theresa could have sworn that with the little light that they had in this hallway she could see sadness within his eyes. Theresa felt her eyes once again begin to water as she shook her head no. She noticed how Erik inwardly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Theresa—."

"Erik, did you really hear every word of that conversation I had with Madame Giry?" Theresa asked him slowly, taking a step toward him and eyeing him puzzled. Because if Erik really had heard her and Madame Giry's conversation he would've heard Theresa wanting to actually speak with him right after. Erik now looked at her confused. Theresa half-expected him to scowl at her, but he didn't at all. He was waiting for her to continue, keeping silent. "Erik, it may have scared me a little," _not a little, a lot, _her mind corrected, "but I've met you and I've talked to you before I even heard all of what she told me. You aren't that man any more, it's—."

Erik suddenly felt his blood boil inside of him as he took several steps forward. "You don't know _me_. I am a—!"

"You're not!" Theresa cut him off loudly and fisted her hands as she took a small step, looking up at him. Erik gritted his teeth. Never had he encountered a woman so irritating, so frustrating as _her. _"You're every bit a man, no matter what anyone says! You are a man who made mistakes, who is lonely! You _feel _things. A monster doesn't feel things."

"You don't know me." Erik repeated to her. The nerve of her! She didn't have any right to say that, she never met him enough times to state that. What gave her the right? The woman boggled him, she really did. There were so many things about her that were admiring, yes, but there were many things that he couldn't get straight. Her nerve being one of them, and the fact that she was so frustrating. Theresa was also naïve and foolish for being such a smart girl.

Theresa shook her head in disbelief, "You don't know yourself. I probably know you better than you know yourself, Erik."

"You _don't_." Erik said to her in almost a low growl, a warning growl as he moved his head forward toward her. An odd look came across his face as he noticed Theresa not taking a step back, or even flinching back to get away from him. Their faces were so close, so close that if Theresa moved only a quarter of an inch forward she would bump noses with him. He added to her, "And you will never know me like that, mademoiselle. I could murder you right now, I've done it before, and I could do it again."

"Then why don't you?" Theresa asked him not phased. She never even broke eye contact with him as he brought a hand to touch an exposed part of her neck. "You could have done it this whole time and plenty of times before, and yet you haven't. I don't believe you, Erik." Theresa was still shaking as Erik touched her. His simple gloved touch caused her to shiver, but he didn't feel it. Erik looked as if he was fighting with himself. Theresa's eyes went from the top of his head to his pale lips before she looked at his green eyes once again. She said to him slowly, "Erik, I know you're not like that any more. You wouldn't have let me go the very first time that I was in your lair and, maybe, you always were gentle, but... very lonely."

"You are frustrating me." Erik said to her with his eyes cold and hard. His tone sounded almost threatening, but Theresa could hear it trembling. She still didn't step away from him or make it look like she was frightened by that statement.

Theresa ignored his statement, surprising herself by what she said next. "You are not alone, Erik." The words confused Erik and they were familiar too him, all too familiar. But he didn't know what she meant by that. Those words toward him were only used one other time, _one_ other time, and that was when Christine made her choice to save the man that she truly loved. Those words were once used in fear. But now... he didn't understand what they were being used for. Theresa didn't give him time to think, for not even a second later, Erik felt her hand caress his smooth cheek, her other hand going to his neck. Theresa closed the proximity between them, softly placing her lips on top of his, closing her eyes.

Erik's eyes were wide and his hand that was on top of her neck fell and stiffened. The music in his other hand fell out and onto the floor, scattering. He looked down pointedly to see that this was really happening. Theresa moved her lips slowly to try and make Erik's lips more loose. Her lips were soft and smooth against his. Erik felt something tingling along his mouth as he began to kiss her back, his eyes closing. Soon his hand went into her hair to push it back, his other resting on the top of her neck. He could have sworn that he actually felt Theresa's lips pull up into a smile.

Their kiss ended far too soon for him. Theresa parted his mouth, her beautiful, small mouth, away from his. Erik slowly opened his eyes to see Theresa put a hand over her mouth, staring up at him almost astonished. She didn't even... she didn't even realize that she was going to do that. Erik was puzzled by her at that moment. "I'm... I'm sorry," she apologized to him. "I didn't mean to do that." She touched her lips for a moment before dropping her hand while her cheek began to burn almost a bright red. Erik now felt awkward standing before her.

He straightened himself before he cleared his throat, watching Theresa bend down to pick up the music off of the floor. Theresa gathered the music, thanking for the small moment she had away from his eyes before standing straight up. She went to hand him the music. Erik slowly took it out of his hands and though he felt awkward right now, he managed to have a smooth tone when speaking to her, "Thank you. I think I should lead you to your room... now."

Theresa avoided eye contact with him for a moment, "Yes, that... that would be nice. Auditions for everyone are tomorrow morning, I have to be up bright and early."

"I thought your role was secured," Erik said to her, brushing off the kiss she gave him immediately and brushing off the small argument they had before it. In fact, he almost had forgotten what led them to that moment. Theresa still didn't look up at him as she nodded her head, confirming that. Erik watched her hands nervously fiddle in front of the skirt of her nightgown, did she do that a lot when she would feel nervous or awkward?

"It is, but they want me to sit in and watch, so I must. They want my opinions during auditions." Theresa told him, she frankly didn't understand why she was needed there if she didn't have to try out. But as long as the managers commanded her presence, she was to be there. Theresa though would have Jean to have as company, which was good for her. She could talk to him. "Not that I really want to do it," Theresa muttered under her breath.

"Well, thank you... for the song, I mean." Erik said to her after a moment.

Theresa sniggered to herself before nodding her head, still not looking at Erik directly. "No, thank _you_. You saved me from my death." Erik nodded his head rather awkwardly still before grabbing one of her hands that she was fiddling with in his hand. He gripped it firmly, but didn't start moving yet. Theresa finally looked up at him to see that he was waiting for her to pay attention. The warning was in his eyes, speaking to her.

It said, 'Don't ever do that again' but Theresa wasn't sure if he meant the going through the labyrinth alone, or the kiss. Maybe he meant both. Then with that one final look Erik carefully stepped in front of her, tucking his music underneath his cape and leading her back to her room.

* * *

_**Hey everyone... so yeah. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next chapter will be out next Friday on March 8**__**th**__**! Hope to see you there! Don't forget to drop a review and to like my Facebook page for sneak peeks of next chapter! :) **_

_**Love,**_

_**Tiana xoxo**_


	16. Peace & Turmoil

_**Hello everyone! Phew, I didn't think that I would reach my deadline for this update to be honest. Since I had so many things to do and everything, but wow, I was surprised with myself this week. Anyway, thank you to everyone who gave me feedback last chapter! Means a lot! :) And I had a feeling that you all would enjoy the ending of last chapter ;). But... if you liked me on Facebook, you may have gotten my little foreshadowing of this chapter. If you didn't see it, well I'll say it again. Henri haters may not like this chapter at all. Or you may, it depends on what you think. **_

_**Well, anyway, hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

_Chapter XVI: Peace & Turmoil_

The next morning Theresa stared at her reflection. With her hand over her chest she felt her soft heartbeat against it. Theresa looked awful right now. She looked like she hardly slept the night before, and she barely did. After Erik brought her to her room last night, after their silent journey through the tunnels, he only bid her goodnight. Theresa expected him to say something, _anything_, to her about what had happened between them. She hardly knew what came over her last night, at one point when they were arguing, Theresa just got so _frustrated_ with him.

Did she kiss him just to prove something? Just to prove that he really wasn't different from everyone else? To prove that she thought him an actual good person deep down and that she wasn't frightened by him?

She had no idea.

Did she do it because she wanted to? Maybe.

But she didn't know. She really didn't know. Theresa put a hand through her hair. She could only imagine what someone would say about what she looked like right now. She looked like death itself, that would be what her mother would tell her. Instead of looking at her reflection in the mirror on her vanity, the soprano sat down. She sat down slowly and looked down at the old rose that she found a while ago on the top of her bed. Theresa smiled softly at the dead rose before picking it up by the stem.

Her other hand went to the black ribbon still tied around it tightly, rubbing it gently in between her fingers. She told her chambermaid that she didn't want this thrown away, to be rid of it just yet, even though the leaves and the petals were almost completely dried out and crumbling. It was special to her, even if it was dying before her. She wanted to keep it, it was a reminder of how Erik really could be, how he took such care in preparing the rose before he gave it to her, how he stripped off each and every thorn and tied that small black bow around the stem.

If you knew Erik's past, and laid eyes on this rose, this beautiful, but now dead, white rose, you wouldn't even think that Erik had touched it without destroying. And yet... Theresa knew all too well that he _did_ put all that care in this rose, as he did with the one before the one in her hand, and maybe even the ones that he had given Christine.

Maybe that was why she kissed him. Because of the care he used for this rose. Theresa soon dropped it onto the vanity's white surface, her hand limply going to hold her chin up. She sighed softly to herself, the smile falling off. She was frankly confused about this. Theresa, in her own reflection, could see this in her eyes that were looking back at her. There was a certain doubt in them, a doubt that she barely knew was inside of her. A deep worry that was beginning to swirl and twirl inside of the pit of her stomach, like little fluttering butterflies roaming inside of it. Theresa wondered, how did _he _feel about it? Was he just as confused as she was?

It was a shock for both him _and _her, she knew that. But... when he dropped her off, Erik didn't talk about it at all. He acted as though it never happened, he brushed it off immediately like she did because she, herself, felt _awkward_ about it.

Just thinking about everything made her head ache too early in the morning. She wanted to just try and sleep again, like she had tried to do several times when Erik took her back, but it was now too late to sleep. The day was already starting. Theresa could see the sun shining through the square in front of the Opera house from her window. Theresa could already feel her tortuous afternoon coming. The auditions would be the worst hours of her life today with the aching head that she was already starting to have from her thoughts and exhaustion.

She rubbed her head with a frown, that really was the last thing that she wanted to do today. But she did as her managers commanded, so it was her duty... for some reason. It really didn't matter that she had to be there. Theresa was dragged out of her thoughts once she heard someone knocking on the door. She parted her mouth almost confused before rising slowly up from the vanity chair and going to the door.

At first, Theresa only opened it a crack to see that it was only Henrietta, her personal chambermaid. "Oh!" She said surprised, she opened her door fully to let her in. Henrietta never usually came this early to her room, and if she did, Theresa must have been asleep because she wasn't usually up at this time at all.

"I made sure to knock first, signora." Henrietta stated as she walked into Theresa's room. In her hands, she carried a couple of dresses. She made her way to Theresa's table and laid them on top of them. "But, I have to say, I didn't expect you to be up so early. If you didn't answer the door, I would've came later."

"Well, I am indeed up now."

"I see that, and good morning."

"Good morning to you, too." She was definitely more calmer than what she was before. Theresa closed the door to her room and asked Henrietta, "Can you prepare a bath for me please? The auditions are today and the managers asked of me to help them with the cast."

"Of course, signora," Henrietta stated to her. "It would be done in a tick."

Theresa nodded kindly to her, "Thank you, mademoiselle." Henrietta smiled motherly to her before she went off to the wash-room, leaving Theresa alone for a moment. She looked over to her small bed and on the night stand beside it was the book that she started to read weeks ago. She still never finished it. Theresa went to her bed and sat on top of it, taking the book in her hands. While she waited for her bath, she opened the book to where she left off in it last and then began to read it.

* * *

Auditions. She hated them. Either you are being the tortured judge of it, or you are being the nervous wreck on stage. She was now being tortured. Of course, there were several actresses and actors that were good for the roles, but many of them needed practice. Alaina, finding out that Theresa was secured for a role already, choked during her auditions as Theresa exchanged lines with her. They even sung a duet together to see how their voices harmonized. They somewhat did, but still, she stumbled on her words as she sung. The mangers were not impressed by her like they were the first time.

Although Theresa disliked the girl, she had to say she felt bad for her. A friend of hers, Josef, didn't do a bad job at all. He did a particularly good job that made the managers stand up on their feet and applaud him. Theresa and Jean only looked up at them, but nevertheless they did clap for him. But they didn't think he deserved a standing ovation like the managers did, maybe the night of he would get one. He was most likely going to get the lead... she hoped that he would get the lead at the very least.

Then Henri went on stage.

He didn't look so good. He looked like he had a hard night, the poor man couldn't even walk in a straight line when he approached the middle of the stage. Jean made a snide comment when he came on stage and it made Theresa feel small after that. However, they at all didn't expect what was to come out of his mouth. Theresa remembered her eyes widening and her breath being caught in her throat. She didn't know what to make out of what he had done, but she doubted that the man that she _wanted_ to get the lead role would actually get it.

Jean was even stunned. The managers were brought to silence when he finished, you could tell that they didn't expect it either. Theresa was almost too stunned to even run lines with him, but she did anyway after a minute of collecting herself. When they were finished, Henri locked eyes with her before turning his back, leaving the stage.

Other than that, there was no one who really stuck out to her. Theresa's head ached along with her throat straining by the time they ended. Jean and Theresa were now leaving the theatre. "That was..."

"Tortuous?" Jean offered to her. Theresa found herself nodding as the two of them walked to where lunch was being served. "Tortuous and interesting, I think it was. This is definitely going to be an interesting performance."

"I have to agree." Theresa said. "But we all need practice if the performance is in three months." When they entered the dining room, Theresa frowned as Jean was making his way to the nearest empty table where they both could sit at. But Theresa wasn't hungry for any food at all. She looked to Jean, who had noticed that she stopped at the entrance. He approached her again and Theresa said to him, "I'll be back," she might not be however, "if Meg comes tell her I am in the _chappelle_, please."

Jean looked at her carefully, taking both of her shoulders within his grasp and looking her directly in the eye. "Are you okay?" He asked her slowly. Theresa offered him a small smile before nodding her head to him. Lately, Jean had noticed that she was distant these past couple of weeks and his concern for his friend had grown considerably over those weeks as well. His hands fell off of her shoulders. "Okay then... hurry back though, I have something to tell you _and_ Meg." Theresa raised her eyebrow at him for a moment, but nodded to him once again.

Jean grinned at her before he turned around to sit where Meg was already headed to. Theresa watched him for a moment, his face lit up even more than how it should light up when he sat down across from her. Theresa turned around before Meg would look over at her and she went quickly out of the dining room.

Theresa could hardly eat right now, food was far off from her mind. She needed to make sense of some things before she could even pick up any sort of fork.

The crowd was rushing through the dinning room now to eat, but Theresa was leaving for now. She looked at each person there and there were a couple that looked her up and down like she had done something wrong. Theresa tried not to look at them directly in their eyes as she went to the _chappelle_.

She needed to talk to her father, these past couple of weeks had been very confusing to her. The weeks she was separated from Erik, without any sort of contact at all until the night before. He saved her and she kissed him, almost in the heat of the moment. Theresa walked quietly through the sudden turns and when she entered the hallway, she looked around, her hand skimming the wall.

Theresa picked up the skirt of her dress as she went down the steps so she wouldn't trip or get it caught on anything. She looked cautiously down that hall before walking over to where the candles were. But she stopped at the entrance, seeing someone already kneeling there. The man took a candle match and lit one of them. Theresa leaned against the wall as she heard the quiet sobs of this man in front of her. If they were even sobs, they sounded more like whimpers from a hurt dog.

She furrowed her brow, the man looked familiar from the back but she couldn't place him at all. That was until she heard his voice mutter softly.

Theresa slowly walked away from where she stood, her shoes not making a clatter at all. She gaped at him before kneeling behind him, laying a dainty hand on his shoulder. Theresa, with her thumb, massaged it gently as he laid his hand on top of hers, knowing that she was there with him. He didn't even have to look back to see that it was her, she would be one of the few women that would walk up behind him and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Henri looked up from his father's small picture and to Theresa, locking eyes with her hazel eyes. Theresa only wiped a small tear from the corner of his eye. "I told you, I only knew him for two weeks." He stated to her. Theresa wasn't confused by this, it was their first conversation together. She remembered that clearly actually. Theresa looked over to see his father and took in a sharp breath seeing that it was... someone who she hardly expected. It wasn't that hard to figure out who it was either. There were only a couple of pictures there. Two of them were her parents. One of them was _Gustav Daae _who was, she knew, Christine's father. And on that side there was only one other. And that was _Joseph Buquet._ He was the only one with the candle lit on that side also.

Theresa slowly looked back at him and nodded, "I remember you telling me that, and that he worked here. That was why... when Emile said that his death was an accident, you walked off that day, wasn't it? This man wasn't just your friend."

"No," Henri admitted, his voice cracking as he did. His voice was so low that it was almost a whisper. "I couldn't say that man was my father after what you had heard about him." Emile said to her he was a drunk, leaving Henri and his mother flat. Though he admitted that to Theresa that he did leave them flat, Henri didn't want to say that was his father because he was a drunk and because of how he died. Theresa nodded understandingly.

She chuckled sadly though, offering him a small smile, "It would explain a lot of your love for the drink." Henri rolled his eyes at that, but smiled back at her despite it.

"I am guessing then, that you were looking for me?" Henri asked her. Theresa shook her head no. This was the last place that she would place Henri at. "Oh... then what are you doing here?"

"I didn't know it was occupied," she said to him softly. She looked over at her parents and gestured over to them. Henri looked over at them as well. "I was going to see my parents here as well."

Henri took a deep breath, nodding. His eyes never left the picture of her mother. Her soft waves reached to about her shoulders and if anything, she looked almost like Theresa's twin. He said to her, "You look like your mother."

"I've been told," she admitted to him, "people say that who had seen her perform before, that she looks exactly like me. Her eyes and... well, everything else."

"She had hazel eyes," Henri said admirably to her. Henri looked over at her, eyeing her up and down, his breath being caught in his throat. Theresa nodded glancing over at him before she looked back at her parents, her father in particular now. Henri looked over at her father now. There was no colour in the picture, but he could see love in her father's eyes and a gentle nature in them as well. "But you're probably more like your father, I think," Theresa raised her brow before looking over at him. She nodded to him. "I could tell, you have the same look in his eyes. Your mother seems nice, but she seems..." Henri trailed off, looking back in her mother's picture to find the word.

"Scary?" Theresa said to him with a crooked grin. "Because she was definitely a scary woman."

"I don't doubt it." Henri admitted to her. "Her beauty doesn't hide it." _But yours does,_ he added to himself. "She taught you how to sing, didn't she?"

"She did. And my father taught me how to play piano."

Henri nodded slowly to her, "I remember... you telling me that."

"Yes, I forgot that I did." Theresa admitted to him. Silence then fell between them as Henri turned his head back at her again. Henri didn't know what should go through his head right now nor what he should tell her.

He only decided to search her eyes for anything. Theresa felt his hand grip hers gently as he took it off his shoulder. She began to breathe hoarsely. "Theresa," he started to her, her mouth parted slightly at the sound of his mouth, "I'm... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Theresa asked him confused. What exactly was he sorry for? Theresa didn't bring herself to look him directly in his eyes, knowing that she somehow found herself get lost in the greyish blue pools. "For what are you sorry for, Henri?"

"You do... remember, don't you?" Henri asked her cautiously. "That night when you found Alaina and I in the rafters together. I've said some things that had upset you."

Theresa shook her head at him and started to him, only to be cut off, "Henri—."

"Shush," he whispered to her, hushing her immediately Gently he placed a finger on the top of her lips. Theresa looked down pointedly at the finger and she found herself having no words at all right now. Henri licked his bottom lip before adding on to her. "Theresa, I'm not going to lie to you right now... and now that I have you in front of me, I'm just going to say it. No holding back any more, understand?" Theresa slowly raised her eyes back up to meet his. The greyish-blue eyes were almost pleading with her own and Theresa find herself actually nodding to him slowly. "You're different, Theresa. I haven't met anyone like you ever before."

"Wha—?" Theresa murmured against Henri's finger, but he pressed it down on her lips to stop her from finishing.

He continued to her, "There's something about you... I don't know why, but the way you avoided me these past couple of weeks, it made me... I don't know. I'm so confused about you, Theresa, you really have no idea with how confused I am about you." Henri knew that every word that was coming out of his mouth was every bit of the truth. The fact that Theresa had been acting like he hadn't existed these past weeks was actually killing him on the inside. It might sound a little bit dramatic, but Henri was an actor, everything was _dramatics_. There was something different about Theresa that caught his eye since day one.

She was more demure and shy than the other women he had been with. She had an innocence about her as well, that attracted him to her. He enjoyed seeing the innocence in her hazel eyes and not for the reasons that some might think. He never wanted her to lose any bit of that innocence in her eyes. He missed her stubbornness that he had come to know these past months, he had missed her small smile or her smirk that she would have when she would think, and he even missed the sound of her voice when she would talk.

Henri didn't know whether or not it was love that he felt for her. He didn't know what love even felt like. But if love was getting these feelings poking the inside of your stomach and becoming nervous just at the presence of the person you feel this love for, then perhaps that was what Henri was feeling right now.

For some reason, Henri didn't know what, he wanted her attention somehow so he could tell her all this. But now that she was finally in front of him, staring at him with big hazel eyes and waiting for him to say more to her... the words in his mouth went dry. His eyes searched hers, uncertain if he should really continue on to her or of even _how_ he should continue to her. Theresa felt herself almost getting impatient with him, waiting with baited breath for what else he was going to say. It was beginning to irritate her and Theresa could feel herself growing more and more tense just with this wait.

"I don't know what I'm trying to say to you," Henri admitted to her. Perhaps he could show it to her? Henri shook that thought out of his head. He said to her, "But... what I think I'm trying to say is, is that I..." he trailed off once he felt that certain word begin to bubble at the top of his throat. Henri could feel how warm his face had gotten and he gulped immediately. Theresa unconsciously squeezed his hand that held hers in an almost comforting way. Henri pursed his lips and his finger fell slowly from Theresa's mouth. "You didn't come here to see me, Theresa. I know that. I think I should really leave you right now alone." He told her almost regretfully.

Theresa's face fell as she felt Henri's hand disappear from hers and he took a step back. "We'll continue this another time." Theresa didn't know what to say to him as he went to walk around her. She slowly turned her head as his figure retreated away from her.

She had almost forgotten why she had came here in the first place. "Henri," she called to him, walking to the entrance of the chappelle. He was only a little bit away from her when he stopped in his place. He slowly turned around to face her, Theresa could tell that he was nervous right now. But why was he nervous for her? She added to him, "If you have something to say, say it now."

He visibly gulped before he approached her again. Only this time, instead of talking to her, Henri had a new plan in mind. His eyes went to her lips for a quick moment, and just by looking at them he could already imagine them against his, how soft they would be against his. He slowly took both of her hands in his, her dainty hands were soft and small as he held them within his. "I have a lot to say, Theresa." Henri murmured to her. Theresa parted her mouth to say something, but she didn't have any time to even get a word out.

Henri closed the distance between them, his mouth covering Theresa's as he closed his eyes. Theresa's eyes widened in shock before she felt her lips catch his. She forced herself to close her eyes as she felt Henri's hands let go of hers. One went to her cheek, caressing it with his thumb and the other found its place on her hip. Theresa tilted her head back as she moved her arms around his neck, their lips moved together slowly and her breath almost hitched when Henri's lips moved away from hers to linger on the corner of her mouth.

This was a lot different from the gentle kiss that they shared after their awkward moment during dinner.

Theresa moved her face forward once she felt his lips absent from hers, her nose skimming his cheek. Theresa felt his chest rumble against hers as he began to chuckle lightly. "That went better than I thought it would," he commented to her. Theresa smiled in response, and a moment later she felt Henri move away from her. She opened her eyes slowly as he carefully took her arms away from his neck. "I think..." he trailed off, looking into her eyes. Theresa tilted her head forward just a bit, her eyes beckoning him to continue. He laughed sheepishly, shaking his head, "I think that we should forget what... happened before."

Theresa's face fell confused, "Do you mean the kiss?"

Henri looked at her confused for a moment, before he realized how that must have sounded before. He shook his head quickly, "Oh no, not that." He told her, causing Theresa to suddenly smile softly to him, but it faltered for a moment. "Not that at all. I enjoyed that, I _really_ enjoyed it actually. I only meant that we should... start over?" He sounded unsure by the end of his sentence and it showed on his face. Theresa looked at him carefully.

"Okay..." Theresa said slowly. To be honest, she only said _okay_ so he wouldn't act nervous right now. She didn't like this new, sheepish Henri in front of her now. "I think I understand what you mean." But she really didn't. Theresa then realized what had just happened between them. Her smile soon fell though when she saw Henri's lips pull up in a smile of his own. He didn't seem to notice her sudden frown. She added to him, "But Henri, if we start over... I don't know if we should start with that... kiss."

That smile fell almost immediately off of his face. He took a step toward and grabbed both of her hands. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean... is, I'm not sure if..." Theresa closed her eyes for a moment, she could see green eyes staring back at her once they were closed. She opened her eyes slowly, "I'm not sure if... I just need to think about things, Er—Henri." Theresa turned away, her hand coming loose out of Henri's hand. Henri stood behind her with his brow furrowed toward her still confused. Theresa touched her mouth lightly, unsure why she was about to call him _Erik_ instead of his actual name. He didn't seem to notice though. Henri extended his hand to lay it on the shoulder, but dropped it immediately.

He pursed his lips. "Theresa," he murmured her name, taking a step toward her, but she stepped forward, her back still to him. "I don't seem to understand." Henri said to her slowly.

"I need to think things over, Henri."

"Yes, I know that," Henri said to her slowly. "But... are you saying you don't feel the same way about me?" Henri actually felt his whole body tense up at the question he just asked. Did he just admit that he had feelings for her? Feelings that he normally didn't have for another woman? He could have sworn that he heard his own voice break just saying that, like it hurt him to ask his own question. Theresa didn't answer him, instead she knelt down in front of the alter. Henri felt himself actually get frightened when she didn't say anything. "Theresa?"

"I don't know." Theresa said to him, looking over her shoulder and up at him. "Henri, I _don't_ know." She repeated to him as if she had to be more clearer. Henri frowned deeper at the sound of her voice before she turned away from him. He stood there watching her for a moment as she went to use the match to light the candle over the small portrait of her parents. When Theresa didn't acknowledge him, Henri stepped away from her with a small nod of understanding.

Henri gulped before stating to her, "Maybe I shouldn't have done that." Theresa slowly raised her head up. He shook his head to himself, "I'm sorry for kissing you like that. That wasn't right." Henri turned around as Theresa stood up slowly. Her hands folded over the front of her dress and she looked over to see that Henri was walking away, mumbling to himself. Theresa felt herself gulp when she opened her mouth as if she wanted to stop him again.

Her stomach twisted though at the thought and when she outstretched her hand toward his retreating figure, she dropped it immediately. She put a hand to her forehead before looking down to the ground. Theresa suddenly felt a sudden chill as she went to kneel down again in front of the alter. With the match still being held, Theresa reluctantly lit the candle over her parents' portrait. She bowed her head, but instead of praying to them right away, she felt her bottom lip tremble and her eyes begin to water.

Theresa tried to think of something else as she closed her eyes. But the confusion of everything overwhelmed her, and when she tried to find peace, she found only turmoil.

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_**Well... hope you enjoyed the chapter. Next update will be on March 15th, the Friday before my 18th birthday on March 17th... :) See you then!**_


	17. Mon Chéri

_**I am so sorry for this late update, really, I am. I'm not going to waste time telling why this is so late, but I wanted this chapter done today so it could be sort of like an Easter present... Although, I'm not sure about how many people would take this chapter, you all may love the beginning but the end of it... I don't know... we'll see though, hopefully it was worth the wait. Thank you to everyone who showed their support last chapter, it all means a lot to see you enjoying this story. Enjoy the new update!**_

_**Review Replies:**_

_**A Fan: I know, I'm so sorry for the lateness of this update! My horrible updating habits for stories are coming up on me, but I promise the next chapter won't be two weeks late. Really, I do. Hope you enjoy the new chapter and thank you for reviewing!**_

_**Turtle-sloth-gal: Thank you! I'm glad to hear that you love it :) Oh no, you might not like this chapter then if you want Henri out of the picture... Hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

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_Chapter XVII: Mon Chéri _

Theresa spent several nights with little to no sleep at all after that day with Henri at the chappelle. She watched her mirror for any sign of something... anything to come. Tonight was no different. Theresa sat down on top of her bed, dressed in a simple blue frock and wearing her shoes while reading one of her books in her hand. Her hazel eyes glanced up from the book to the mirror to see if she saw a little hint of the Phantom's signature white mask. But to her disappointment—there was nothing there at all. Theresa's eyes went back to the words scrawled inside the bindings of her book.

She sighed deeply, her thumb rubbing against the parchment roughly before she turned the page. Theresa unconsciously looked up again from her book, to make sure. Once again—nothing. Theresa's chest swelled with even more disappointment than before. She didn't understand what was going on.

It was more than days since she had last seen him. No, it was more like weeks. Two weeks once again to be exact. Theresa felt the book drop limply from her hands as her head lolled back. She blinked her eyes several times as she stared absently from where she was. Her eyes were so tired, she didn't know if she would be able to fight her sleep like she did for so many nights any more. She would always relax during the day, however, after a busy day of rehearsals for the new production. But, that wasn't enough sleep for her... unfortunately. Just one night, and maybe, just maybe it would be enough.

With a frown tracing along her lips, Theresa stood up from her bed and took the nightgown that was draped on the nearest chair to her. She drowsily walked to the dressing screen and when she hid herself with it, she slipped out of her shoes and pulled her dress over her head, draping it over the top of the dressing screen.

She slipped into her nightgown and took her dressing gown that was also draped along the top of it, throwing it on before removing her hair from it so it would lay on top of her shoulders. Theresa's eyes fluttered shut for a moment drowsily as she began to tie her dressing gown over her nightgown messily.

Theresa moved from behind the screen and slowly, crossing her arms over her chest as she went toward to her night stand beside her bed to blow out the two candles. She once again glanced behind her shoulder as if she was giving him his last chance, but once again... there was no white mask staring back at her. Theresa tried hard to suppress the sigh that was beginning to bubble inside of her throat and did what she was planning to before. She blew out both of her candles and moved the sheet's flap just enough for her to slip into.

Theresa took a glance outside of her window for a moment while she laid down reluctantly. Once her head had hit her pillow, Theresa felt her body begin to succumb to sleep. Turning over on her side and clutching the the sheets and the duvet cover with dear life, her eyes fluttered close and her chest slowly heaved up and down in a rhythmic pattern.

Then at the mirror where she was looking at before, a white mask appeared in the middle of it. The thing that was the most brightest in the room at the moment. Slowly, the mirror moved, a gloved hand wrapping around the edge of it as it pulled the mirror to the side. The sleeping figure didn't make the slightest move as Erik quietly stepped inside of her room. Erik looked carefully around the room before he went into his jacket, taking out velvety red folder.

Erik walked over to her vanity to place it there, but almost stopped himself when he noticed a crumbling rose on the top of it. He narrowed his eyes confused, looking behind his shoulder for a moment to look at Theresa, who was now soundlessly asleep. Erik placed the folder containing his music on top of the vanity before picking up the rose delicately in between in gloved fingers as his mouth parted in disbelief. He stared at the rose with a furrowed brow, his other hand going to one of the dried out, white petals.

He whispered to no one in particular, "You..." The rest of the words fell in the air as he looked back at Theresa. A feeling swelled within Erik's chest, a feeling that he really had never felt before. He didn't know what to call it. But Erik felt the corners of his mouth twist slightly upward as he placed the rose slowly on top of his folder. The small smile fell off his face however and he pressed his lips into a fine line as he went into his cape again to now take out an envelope that he placed beside the dried out rose.

Erik stepped backward before turning around. He walked now toward Theresa, his dark, shadowy figure looming over her. His green eyes scanned her from her head to her toe and he hesitantly sat down on the edge of the bed. He carefully took off his gloves, stretching his hands as the gloves fell onto his lap. Erik closed his for a moment before he rested his hand on her uncovered shoulder. Under his hand, he could feel her body let out a slight tremor. Erik felt his heart beat against his chest quickly now as the hand travelled from her shoulder to her neck.

Erik shifted closer to her, unconsciously brushing against her body as his finger felt the beating pulse on her neck. It neither quickened or slowed. His hand then moved to touch her soft face. He noticed how her mouth parted slightly, letting out a small moan as Erik's rough thumb touched her high cheekbone. Erik felt himself almost relish at the fact that she moaned under his touch. Her face slightly moved toward him.

"Theresa," he murmured, somewhat expecting some sort of response from her. However, he received none.

Erik swallowed before he leaned over her body and then leaned his head over his lips, removing his hand from her cheek and replacing it with his lips. Theresa leaned even more toward his gentle kiss on her. "Mon chéri," he murmured against her before her nose brushed against the surface of his mask. Erik moved away from her after a moment, smiling slightly to himself when he saw a smile on Theresa's face. He leaned away from her and then he carefully covered her more securely with her sheets.

From the corner of his eye, however, he noticed Theresa's eyes crack open. "Er..." she started, stirring slightly. Erik seemed to be frozen in his spot, but he turned to face her. "Erik," she mumbled more clearly than before. Erik was debating on whether or not to answer her.

He said to her, "You're tired, Theresa." He promptly had gotten off the bed, immediately pretending that what just happened didn't happen at all. The gloves fell onto the floor from his lap as Theresa's sleepy eyes barely made out his image. "Go back to sleep." Theresa's eyes closed slowly as she nodded against her pillow, turning her head back so that it was facing the wall. Erik let a sigh of relief escape from him before he bent down to pick up his fallen gloves.

He quickly put them on and ever so smoothly, he stood up straight, turning on his heel to go back into the tunnels of the opera house. But then he heard a whisper come from her body, "Stay." Erik stopped again in his place, his breath actually being caught in his throat. It took every bit of his control to respond to do that, turning around to see her head weakly being held up. The few curls spilled on her shoulders and he saw a pleading look in her hazel eyes, although they didn't look directly into his, they were only looking in his general direction. "For tonight," she added.

Erik swallowed before shaking his head to her. "You know that I... I can't do that." But that still didn't stop him from wanting to do it. He noticed a visible frown on her face and he suddenly felt the urge to apologize to her. But he didn't because he very well knew that there was absolutely no reason for him to _apologize_ to her, because he really couldn't do that at all. Theresa, who was more than half-asleep right at the moment, seemed to understand before her head fell back down on the table.

Her eyes were still slightly open and Erik thought it time to leave. Erik turned his head and took his eyes off of her, his cape flaring behind him as he made his way back to the mirror. Theresa's eyelids closed as the mirror to her room closed as well.

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"Have you spoken to him lately?" She asked her in a hurry, picking up the skirt of her dress as Madame Giry quickened her step to get her and Theresa away from the middle of the lobby. Madame Giry glared at Theresa slightly annoyed as she roughly grabbed her arm to take her behind one of the grand columns. Theresa stared at Madame Giry expectantly, waiting for her answer. "Well?" She asked the ballet mistress with more urgency before. Madame Giry looked behind her shoulder to be sure that no one could hear them both.

She looked back at Theresa. She whispered to Theresa a little too harshly, "I thought I told you to stay _away_ from him, Signora."

"And I told you that I couldn't," Theresa countered to her. "Now, I am going to ask you again," she said more slowly this time, her eyes sparking for a moment, "have you spoken to him lately? I fear that our last meeting, might have caused _him_ to stay away from me now." She didn't know what was going on with him... or rather her. Since last night, she knew that she was going insane over this. She imagined him last night, in her room. She knew now though that he wasn't there last night, no, not at all. It felt so real though.

"I _have_ not, Signora." Madame Giry said to her through her teeth. Theresa straightened herself and nodded to Giry, understanding. "And maybe him staying away from you is good for you."

"Yes, good for me," Theresa said slowly in disbelief. It was the worst thing for her, she believed. Madame Giry nodded in agreement, not catching Theresa's disbelieving tone. She sighed before raising her eyes to Madame Giry's as her hand fell from her arm. Madame Giry tilted her her head as Theresa told her, "Just... if you do happen to speak to him, will you let me know... please?"

Madame Giry looked almost defeated by the girl's persistence and to her surprise she actually nodded to Theresa. Theresa gave Madame Giry a small smile before she looked around the column to see Jean and Meg talking together at the end of the stairs. Theresa knew now that it was time to go to dinner and she turned her head to see Madame Giry also looking at them with concern on her face. Theresa knew that look all too well. Madame Giry swiftly changed the subject about Erik as she looked at both Meg and Jean, "Theresa, will you answer me honestly if I ask you something?"

The question almost caught her off guard. "Of course," she answered to Madame Giry with her smile falling off.

"Are Monsieur Fortescue and Marguerite...?" The question hung in the air as Madame Giry cast her eyes toward Theresa. The question caused Theresa to look over them, hearing a slight giggle come from Meg. Theresa closed her eyes before looking back at Madame Giry.

She wasn't sure how to answer that question. "Madame... I don't even know. I know that..." she wasn't going to lie to Madame Giry now. Madame Giry did a lot for her in the months that she had been in the _Opera Populaire_. "I know that Meg may have feeling for Je—Monsieur Fortescue, and he for her, but I don't think they acted upon them. She didn't tell me anything that would mean that they do have anything romantic going on."

"And I'm sure they don't," Madame Giry agreed. "But... she and him must know that it can never—."

"Happen," Theresa finished with her frown somewhat deepening. She had grow to know the noble class in France these past few months to know enough how it works. It wasn't too much different in Venice as it was there. She could only imagine what people would say about those two if they were ever to be romantic with each other. The gossip that it would spur. Not only that, but Jean was engaged to be married in a few weeks. It would never work, and Theresa wished suddenly that things were different for her friends. "They both know. He's getting married in a few weeks, madame. I think they know that a relationship other than friendship is impossible."

"Good to know that they know," Madame Giry said to Theresa. "Don't want her to get hurt." Theresa's face softened at the madame's concern for her daughter and smiled gently to her. Theresa turned her head for a second to look at the couple again. It actually saddened her that Meg had a bright smile on her face while talking to Jean, who had a smile just as bright on his. "She does need someone... other than I to care for her." Theresa looked back at Madame Giry curiously, her face softening even more so than before. Madame Giry didn't look back at Theresa, only having her assume that she added that for herself, rather than for Theresa.

"Have a good dinner, Theresa," Madame Giry said to Theresa, biding her goodbye. Theresa bowed her head in farewell as Madame Giry walked away from her. Theresa turned on her heel and walked toward both Meg and Jean.

They both looked over at her as she approached them. "Theresa, don't you look beautiful?" Jean commented to her, looking here up and down. "Almost _just_ as beautiful of Meg." He looked over at slyly at Meg, who was shedding a nice shade of pink just from the compliment.

"Are we ready to go then?" Theresa said to him with a soft smile, gathering her shawl more securely around her. Jean suddenly had a very annoyed look on his face as he shook his head no to her. "And why exactly not?" Theresa asked him slightly concerned. What had got him so annoyed right now?

"Because I wasn't ready yet." Theresa's face soon fell as she looked up at the cocky man grinning at the top of the staircase. Theresa tried not to gape as Henri stepped down each of the individual steps. His cocky look and stature almost fell off however when he looked down at Theresa's anything but amused face. He tried not to look somewhat depressed by that. "I wasn't supposed to be coming, but when Jean invited me to dinner with you all, I couldn't help but accept."

"My _family_ invited you," Jean clarified to him as Henri stopped next to Theresa. She tried to avoid looking at him once his shoulder brushed against hers. Theresa looked over at Meg quite desperately, but Meg didn't seem to know what to do to change these events. "I, however, advised them not to. You are not going to be able to walk out of the manor without _stumbling_."

"I'll try to control myself," Henri assured him bitterly, still holding that cocky grin on his face strongly. "Now, shall we?" Henri propped his arm out for Theresa, who gently placed her hand on the crook of his arm. Henri's smile almost faltered when he noticed Theresa wouldn't meet his eye. Jean stared at Henri long and hard before nodding to him, propping his arm for Meg to take. Both Theresa and Henri waited for Meg and Jean to walk in front of them before following behind.

"I think we should talk." Henri murmured to her, placing a hand on top of hers. Theresa was almost startled to feel his breath on top of her ear. Theresa gulped to herself, feeling a slight stirring in the pit of her stomach as she kept her back straight. "Are you not going to talk to me?" Henri asked her when she didn't answer him.

Theresa replied to him shortly, "There's nothing _to_ talk about."

"There is quite a bit actually."

"Well, I don't need to talk about _anything_." Theresa said to him rather bitingly, she noticed that their pace was relatively much slower than both Meg and Jean. Henri looked over at her, trying to keep his composure now and not shout at the stubborn woman next to him. That was when an idea had occurred to him. A stupid idea, but an idea nevertheless. He stopped in his place, having suddenly a panicked look on his face. Theresa looked over at him abruptly with her brow furrowed toward him puzzled.

Henri cleared his throat and mustered all of his actor abilities that he could, "Uh, Jean?" He called. Jean and Meg turned around slowly to face both Theresa and Henri. Theresa's face twisted as Henri continued, she could tell what he was doing, "I seemed to have forgotten my handkerchief in my room."

"Your handkerchief?" Jean asked in disbelief. Theresa dug her nails into the crook of Henri's arm, hoping that they would break through the fabric of his jacket to cause him pain. Pain enough to stop this. Henri ignored Theresa and nodded his head to him. Jean gritted his teeth irritated, "You've got to be kidding. Henri, leave the damn handkerchief _here_ so we can leave. I don't want to be late to my parent's dinner."

"But that's my lucky handkerchief. It was my father's." Pure lie. Theresa knew all too well and she couldn't help but sustain herself from rolling her eyes at that. Henri hoped that she wouldn't. "And you're wasting even more time by just arguing about it with me."

Jean looked defeated and he dismissed Henri with a wave of hand, annoyed still. He honestly didn't really care if Henri was accidentally _left_ at the _Opera Populaire._ No matter what his parents might say. "Fine then," Jean said to him through his teeth. Meg looked up at him somewhat with concern. "Go and get your damn handkerchief. We'll all wait for _you_ in the carriage outside. Come on, Th—."

"Oh no, I don't think so. I don't trust you, Monsieur Fortescue," Henri suddenly had a crooked grin on his face. His panicked expression disappearing now. "I'm going to take her as a hostage."

"You will be doing no such—."

"It's fine, Jean," Theresa nearly snapped, giving a Henri a look before looking back at him. Jean seemed surprised that she said that it was _fine_. Lately, Henri wasn't on her good list at all. "If I'm his hostage then I would be sure that he isn't going to take his sweet time in coming to the carriage. Trust me, I can handle it. You and Meg go ahead."

"You sure, Theresa?" Meg asked her, uncertain herself. Theresa nodded her head to her with a fake smile. Theresa, however, wasn't sure if she _could_ handle it. "Very well," Meg forced a smile back at her friend, unsure if Theresa could _really_ handle it. Meg knew what happened between them the several days ago. She had a long talk with Theresa about it, but she could tell that Theresa actually did _harbour _feelings for Henri. Ever since the first day of rehearsals she knew Theresa had feelings for the men. But... there was something about Theresa's tone when she spoke about what happened, something that wasn't _right._ She knew Theresa for several months and she could tell already if she was hiding something from her. What? Meg didn't know herself, but she wanted to know. Meg looked over at Jean, who seemed to be growing impatient, "Come on, Jean. We'll wait for them both."

Her voice was so gentle that Jean was forced to calm down. He looked over at her with his face softening. "All right," he said to her. Jean turned on his heel with her along his side and the two then walked to the carriage outside. Theresa stood there for a moment, watching them walk away. Meg gave her a quick look behind her shoulder before Jean opened the door for her and once Meg left with Jean. Henri turned toward Theresa, forcing her hand off the crook of his arm. He grabbed Theresa's hand and took her where she was before with Madame Giry, behind the exact same column.

Once they were safely hidden from anyone that would walk past them, Henri started to her, "I want to try something."

"Wha—?" Theresa felt herself being pulled toward Henri, her chest colliding with his as his lips passionately kissed hers. Theresa's eyes widened for a moment in shock before she felt them close. Henri manoeuvred her so that her back was against the column as his lips worked to loosen hers. Theresa felt herself actually begin to melt against him. Her lips going to kiss him back at the level of passion he was using toward her. Her hands went to either side of his neck.

Henri relished in the fact that she was actually kissing him back, the pair of their lips both moving in such a way that it was almost like a song for him. When he parted, a smile broke on his face as he rubbed Theresa's skin just under her eye. Theresa still lingered slightly, her mouth still leaning toward his, wanting more. She found herself in the same position that she was in several days before. Her cheeks flushed as his finger skimmed over her skin, which had gotten more pale since the last time he had seen her.

His forehead rested against hers for a moment as she opened her eyes a crack. Henri's grey-blue irises were locked onto hers, so close that Theresa was lost in them. "Now, I don't understand." Henri said to her almost amused by this, but the confusion was traced in his voice. "The first time this happened, you did the same thing. You allowed it, but you didn't—."

"I know." Theresa murmured softly before he could even finish, her eyes looking slightly dazed. Theresa didn't understand her feelings at all right now, and she hardly trusted them. She was confused, more so than ever. But, for now, she put those all aside as she looked into his soft eyes.

"Why was it so different last time?" Henri asked her curiously. Theresa's hands went to his shoulders as she closed her eyes, debating if she should say the truth, that someone else really captured her for his own... even if he wouldn't give her the time of day for some reason now, and that she only saw him in her dreams. Was she going to wait around for him? She didn't answer him, thinking of an excuse, but she came to none. Henri chuckled, his breath hitting her face lightly as his lips found their place on her forehead. He murmured against her, "It's okay. Don't say anything, please."

"You don't want to hear me talk, monsieur?"

"No, no, of course you can talk." He laughed for a moment, Theresa liked how his chest rumbled against her. "I meant to say, don't say why."

"Oh... well, I knew that." A playful smirk appeared on Theresa's face as her eyes lazily looked up at him.

"Do you feel the same way about me though?" Henri asked her, in a serious tone. Theresa saw a frown play on his handsome features and immediately her heart clenched at the sound of it. Her playful smirk slipped off and she soon frowned up at him as he moved back. "I..." he started, but soon trailed off, the words failing him. He didn't even know how to say the words to her and he never felt so intimidated by those hazel eyes, even though they were not trying to be intimidated at all. Those hazel eyes, he couldn't stand them, but all in all he _adored_ them. Theresa waited for him to say it, having a feeling that she knew the lost words already. He gathered up his courage and stammered out, "I-I care for you... a lot."

Those weren't the words he wanted to say. He cursed himself inwardly and Theresa could see the torment on his face. She was almost amused by it. "I care for you, too, Henri." She nodded her head slowly.

"But that's not what I wanted to s—."

"Then say what you have to say," Theresa said to him a little annoyed by him. She didn't understand how words would be hard for him. Henri never had trouble with them before, in fact, he never really stopped _talking._ Why was it so hard right now?

"Alright then... I love you." Yes, she knew the words. She just didn't expect him to say them. Theresa wasn't at all prepared, her eyes widened at the statement as Henri inched toward her. Her mouth parted slightly as Henri head leaned toward her, he didn't even wait for her to say them back. It didn't matter because it was always out there, he just needed to say them. Theresa found herself leaning her head toward him as his lips gently were pressed against hers once again. Henri took that as her saying them back to him and his face broke into a grin as he parted from her.

Henri embraced her around the waist, Theresa's face being nuzzled into his shoulder as Henri spun her around where they stood. Theresa giggled, closing her eyes for a moment as she was brought down to her feet. "Come then, I don't want Jean giving Meg a hard time because we are taking too long." Henri gripped her hand tenderly within his and walked with her from behind the pillar.

"Oh, but what about your handkerchief?" Theresa asked him mockingly. Henri turned his head and narrowed his eyes to glare at her. But little did she expect him to actually go into the pocket of his jacket, producing a handkerchief from it. Theresa's mocking face fell as Henri dangled it in front of her face.

"I've had it all this time. I was only saying that so—."

"I know to get away from Jean, but I didn't expect to actually have one on _you_." Theresa interrupted him.

"Of course I did," Henri said to her with a scoff. He mocked, "Every good gentleman cannot leave his room with his lucky handkerchief." His father used to say that all the time to him, and Theresa somehow had the feeling he did by his mocking tone. He asked her curiously, "Why don't you hold it for me?" Theresa slowly reached up and took it out of his hands. Henri smiled down at her as she rested her head on top of his shoulder, holding he handkerchief out in front of her as he led her to the carriage waiting for them outside.

She noticed his initials on the top of it. _HJD. _"What is your middle name, Henri?" She inquired to him.

"Joseph." After his _real_ father. He looked over at her before he opened the door for them to go through. "And Jean was wrong before." Theresa looked up at him with her brow furrowed puzzled before Henri leaned toward her ear, his breath tickling it as he spoke, "You look even _more_ beautiful than Meg does. As always." Theresa couldn't fight the blush that showed on her face as Henri took a step back from her, opening the door. "After you, mon chéri." Theresa's face almost faltered at those words. Mon chéri. She heard that earlier today too, but in her dream she thought she heard it.

Theresa shrugged it off as she went to walk through the door to leave the Opera House, when she heard a whisper that carried through the wind, almost. _"Theresa_." Her face fell at that. She quickly looked behind her to see Henri closing the door behind him. Theresa bunched his handkerchief in her hand as her eyes scanned for the person with that voice.

"Did you hear that?" She asked Henri quickly, her eyes somewhat widened, looking alarmed. Henri raised his eyebrow at her, confused for a moment. He shook his head at her. "You didn't..." Her words trailed off with the next question, of course he didn't say her name. He never did it like _him,_ said her name like he always had.

"Are you all right?" Henri suddenly asked her, taking in now her more alarmed appearance. He never had seen her so on edge before. Only once, but that was so long ago. Theresa shook her head mentally before she composed herself. She flashed him a fake smile before swallowing. She didn't know if that was actually Erik's voice or if she was going crazy. She assumed the latter, since she had been obsessing over the fact that she had to see him since they had shared that moment in the tunnels. If Erik wanted anything to do with her, he would have wanted it by now.

She nodded to him even though it was clear that she wasn't. Henri looked at her carefully before taking her arm within his before they stalked off to the carriage awaiting them. Though Theresa thought that his voice was her imagination, she couldn't help but feeling someone watching her from the shadows and when she stepped into the carriage with Henri following behind her. Erik took his chance to step out of the shadows himself for a quick moment, as he watched the carriage stroll away.

He felt his chest tighten and his jaw lock. His anger coursed through his veins as his hand clenched itself in a fist. Erik stepped back into the shadows, his eyes for a moment never leaving the spot where her carriage was just before. He knew that she was too good to be true for him. Before Erik would even step into the Opera House, he took a deep breath to compose himself quickly. But he found it so hard to do at the moment. How could someone like Theresa come to love a man like... Monsieur D'Aubigne, a drunk, who could hardly stand for five minutes sober? Erik didn't understand at all.

It took all of his being to not fly off the handle. No matter how much it seemed Theresa broke his heart, just like... Christine did. No—Theresa didn't break it like Christine did. Theresa didn't cower away when she saw his face, she didn't kiss him out of pity like Christine did, and above all, Theresa wasn't at all afraid of him like Christine was. Erik's face softened at that thought, his gloved hand touching his lips almost in disbelief. The woman perplexed him more than ever. He didn't know what to think of her.

It was hard to believe that she kissed him... almost like she wanted to for so long. Like she longed for it. And Erik, couldn't believe that he would admit this, longed for it himself. But seeing her with Henri, how they were hiding themselves behind a pillar, how he _kissed_ her like there was no tomorrow, how he _touched_ her, sent an even deeper and darker hatred than the hatred he had felt with the Vicomte Raoul De Chagny.

Erik clenched his jaw and grounded his teeth just at the mere thought of the man. Then with that and a swish of his cape, Erik turned to go back inside the Opera House and go down to his lair. He suddenly had the feeling that he wasn't going to see the soprano tonight.

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_**So... I probably am hated at this moment, but you have to remember from previous chapters and from my other works and tend to write things that no one wants to happen and sometimes be a tease with these sort of things. There are going to be a lot of surprises at that dinner next chapter, trust me. Even two guests that are now coming into the story, any idea on who they may be? **_

_**I'll give you a hint: You all should be very familiar with them already.**_

_**^^^ that probably just gave it away.**_

_**And do you think that Theresa noticed what our Phantom gave her the night he visited her?**_

_**Interested to see what you all will say in your reviews. Happy Spring Break. Happy Passover. And Happy Easter.**_

_**With love,  
Tiana xoxo**_

_**P.S. Finally got around with posting up the Character Bios for both Henri and Theresa on my Facebook page, go check them out!**_

_**Oh, and another thing. I'm debating whether or not to make a sequel or just include that part of the story in here since it happens right after the ending I am planning to start the sequel after. But it would be relatively short... What do you think I should do?**_


	18. Dinner at the Fortescues

_**You all probably hate me right now, I know. Shame, shame, I haven't updated this story in so long. I'm so sorry, I've been busy with my last few weeks of school, AP tests, and plus this chapter was a challenge to write. I had major block. Yes, I know. Not really good excuses, but I'm back with the new chapter! Here it is. Thank you for all the lovely feedback from the last chapter it means so much to me. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

_**Review Replies:**_

_**A Fan: Hello! Thank you so much for your review! Yes, don't worry, Erik and Theresa will be together in the end and Henri will be out of the picture... or will he? Sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy the new chapter!**_

_**Anonymous: Thank you! I'm glad that you love it! :) And I love you for reading this story, lol. Hope you enjoy the new chapter, so sorry for the long wait!**_

_**turtle-sloth-gal: Oh, wow I keep forgetting that you are a Henri hater lol. You know what? I'm just a very mean author who enjoys to torture her characters, haha, but don't worry, Erik and Theresa's time will soon come ;). I will see though if Henri would be able to be shipped to Zimbabwe. Thank you for your review! Enjoy the new chapter!**_

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_Chapter XVIII: Dinner at the Fortescues_

The table was very quiet in the Fortescue manor. The table they were sitting at was long and on top of it were plates of beef drowned in a dark gravy containing soaked bay leaves and vegetables over a bed of rice. The beef was tender and it had just enough salt on the top of it, but not one person touched their food. Theresa's eyes went from her food to Jean across from her. He looked almost desperate to get out of his father's manor. Monique sat next to him with a stiff smile, her hair twisted in a braided bun and her blue eyes looking almost furiously at Meg Giry, sitting next to Theresa. But Monique kept a smile on her face, as if she was pretending everything was okay.

Meg anxiously looked down at her hands and the cloth napkin folded on top of her lap, before looking up at Jean, who glanced over at her quickly. He nodded his head stiffly to her, to reassure her that everything would be all right, and though Meg knew that was his intention behind the nod, she wasn't assured. Henri was looking down at his plate, his left hand holding Theresa's underneath the table and his other hand rudely twirling the fork he had between his fingers. In his hand, he could feel how tightly Theresa gripped it. He could tell that it was from nerves.

When the fork fell from Henri's hand to the side of the porcelain plate, making a loud clinking sound, Theresa, Meg, and Jean jumped from where they were sitting. Henri's eyes widened for a moment and he suddenly felt small, after receiving a reprimanding look from Jean. He gently pushed his fork back to its place on the right side of his plate. Theresa glared over at him as Jean looked to his quiet father at the head of the table. "Really?" She muttered almost inaudibly. It was audible enough for Henri to hear.

He replied with a bored expression, not saying a word. He half expected her to move her hand away from his, but she kept a good grip on it still. Comte Gaston Fortescue sat at the head of the table, overlooking them all and with patience edged along his face. He looked like an older version of his son, and when Theresa met him, she could see that Jean really was his father's son. His face was aged greatly, wrinkles along his forehead and around the corners of his mouth were prominent, his brown eyes were sunken in, and he had thin lips.

When they all came to the manor, Gaston greeted them with a friendliness that Theresa hardly expected. He was extremely kind, much more so than what Theresa expected from what Jean had told her. She, however, didn't know that Jean's mother had passed a year ago, Jean always had referred to having both parents, not just having one. She learned that today when she asked Gaston where was she. He explained to her shortly how she died, apparently she was sick.

But Gaston didn't elaborate on _how_ she had gotten the illness.

Across from his father, sitting at the other head, was Laurent. Jean's younger brother. Unlike the other Fortescues, Laurent was more arrogant, and _rude._ It was difficult to believe that they were even related. If they hadn't looked alike, Theresa would have never suspected. Laurent had a small face and a thin nose. His prominent, high cheekbones stuck out of his face. Theresa noticed a small scar like he had cut himself shaving before the dinner. His brown eyes were a lot darker than the rest of the Fortescue family.

There were two empty chairs at the table that they were waiting for still, this frustrated Jean more than anything right now. "The food is going to get cold." Jean remarked to his father, his tone sounding annoyed as he turned his head toward him with a tight, fake smile. Like Monique's, it was also a tight smile, but he made it look far more friendlier than hers.

"It's rude to eat without the last of our guests." Gaston reasoned with him, both of his elbows soon rested on the table and his head rested on top of the fists his hands made. "You know just as well as I do, Gaston." Jean visibly gulped at the sound of his name coming from his father. Theresa stopped Henri from snorting at it by stepping on his foot, sensing that he was about to do so. Henri tried not to acknowledge that at all.

Laurent decided that it was best for him to talk now. "I am eager to see who the other two are, father."

"You mean you don't know?" Jean asked his younger brother with his eyebrow raised, he picked up his wine in his hand, it shook somewhat in his hand as he brought it up to his mouth. He took a slow sip from it. Laurent shook his head at him. Jean's frown visibly deepened as he placed his glass slowly down. Silence had fell over everyone once again, Theresa thought that she would go mad if no one was to make any sort of conversation.

Then finally Gaston said something to Theresa, "When should we expect the next production at the _Opera Populaire_, Signora?" Theresa looked up from one of the empty chairs to the older man at the head of the table. Gaston had an easy smile on his face, that seemed friendly to Theresa. Reluctantly she had let go of Henri's grip on her hand to fold them over her lap. Henri tried not to show his disappointment. Instead of going for her hand, he rested his hand on the top of her thigh almost possessively.

"In two weeks, we are all coming together for it." She answered him, her smile tight and almost forced. She slowly moved her hand to push Henri's off of her thigh. It took a lot of her to not really scowl at him as she done so. Henri made it seem like nothing had happened, or tried to anyway. "It should be a wonderful show," Theresa added on with her tight smile almost becoming genuine, "we've all been working very hard to make it one of the best productions."

"I'm sure it will be," Gaston said to her, raising his glass up to agree with her. "Has Gaston told you that you are cordially invited to the wedding?"

"Yes, he has." Theresa said to Gaston rather shortly, it was difficult to call Jean 'Gaston,' to her that wasn't his name at all. At the mention of the wedding, Jean and Meg both visibly shivered. Monique tried to ignore it, glancing down at her untouched food. Theresa glanced over at Meg sympathetically. Why would Jean bring her here?

"And, of course, Gaston's friends at the opera house..." Gaston said, gesturing to both Henri and Meg now. Meg looked up briefly at him before looking down in the same moment. Theresa noticed how Gaston's face faltered slightly when he mentioned, "Monsieur D'Aubigne and... I apologize, mademoiselle, what is your name again?" Theresa looked over at Meg, seeing clearly the look of hurt cross it. She made a meaningful glance over at Jean sitting across from her, who was avoiding the eye contact of both Theresa and Meg. He seemed to be in deep thought.

Meg cleared her throat, looking up at Gaston while gathering up some confidence from the pit of her stomach, "Meg Giry, monsieur." She bowed her head slightly toward him. Theresa was almost impressed with how Meg composed herself suddenly.

Gaston tried to give her a gentle smile but it was difficult for him to hold. "Mademoiselle Giry, and... what are you in the _Opera Populaire?_ An actress?"

"A dancer."

"She's actually the Prima Ballerina in the coming production." Jean interjected from across the table. His finger gently grazed over his bottom lip as he glanced up at Meg. Meg barely acknowledged him, it didn't take a genius to figure out that she was cross with him at the moment.

Gaston nodded his head toward Meg. Theresa could've sworn that she saw a look of disapproval crossed his eyes. She guessed that finding out the heir to your fortunes was smiting around with a dancer or even associating with one, was somewhat disgraceful. Theresa suddenly had a distaste of Gaston and maybe people who were like him and his beliefs that were a part of the upper class—a majority of the upper class anyway. He said to her, "Well, I am sure we are all going to be looking forward to your dancing in the next production."

"Yes, I know Gaston and I are both looking forward to watching it from our box." Monique stated to Meg with a smile filled with mockery. It took all the control in Meg's body to not look back down or have her face fall down. "Especially Gaston," she looked next to Jean who did not at all look back at her. He gazed at Meg apologetically, but with a bit of admiration for her. Monique weaved her arm around Jean's, but his arm visibly went stiff once she touched it. Theresa saw something cross Jean's eyes now that she had never seen before. Jean looked almost repulsed by Monique as he glared down spitefully at her hand touching him. Monique continued on, "he always muses about her abilities to me, do you not?" She addressed him now with the same look of mockery she threw at Meg.

Jean said through his teeth to her, "I do not." It was clear though, that he was lying. Maybe not to her, but he had mused about Meg to others in the opera house.

"You do so, you told me that you were so impressed with her ability to dance on our last outing together." Monique persisted. Theresa now felt Meg's eye on her, worried eyes. She glanced over at Meg and under the table she gently gripped her hand to provide some unspoken comfort. Meg gripped her hand tightly and when she looked into her friend's eyes, Theresa could tell that she knew something that Theresa didn't. Her brows furrowed toward Meg puzzled and now, she too, suddenly was more nervous for her friend than she was before.

Jean denied what Monique said, "I didn't say that to you at all."

"You did though. You told me that you are very fond of her." Monique said to him. "Why are you being so modest right now?"

"I'm not being modest." Jean told her almost with a scowl. Theresa could see a drop of sweat come from the top of his head and go down to his cheek. By this time, Meg's grip on Theresa's hand increased to an almost painful grip. Theresa actually winced, but she kept her hand there for Meg to hold. Jean was tense, Theresa could see just by how his jaw shifted and how his neck suddenly seemed strained. Monique still kept her mocking smile, it must have been there to torture both Jean and Meg. Theresa wondered what sort of game Monique was playing at right now. "Now, can we change the subject?"

"Yes, we can." Laurent said from his side of the table just as Gaston opened his mouth to speak. "How about we talk about the wedding, Gaston? It is in, September, correct?"

"I don't really want to talk about the wedding either, Laurent." Jean said to his brother through his teeth. A vein actually began to show in his neck, he was growing impatient and annoyed now with his family it seemed.

"Why not?" Laurent asked his brother curiously, but Theresa could hear an incredulous tone make its way through his voice. "It should be a happy day for you, being married to the woman you are in love with? What more could you really ask for, my dear brother?"

"N-Nothing more," Jean said to his brother slowly. His eyes flickered to Meg for a moment before he looked away from her quickly. Meg didn't even dare herself to really look over at him.

"So, why do you not sound so excited about it?"

"I am excited about it." Jean said to him irritated.

"You do not sound it."

"Well, why don't you shut it for now because you do not know anything?"

"I know a lot more than you think, my brother."

"You don't know _anything_."

"Sons!" Gaston nearly shouted for order at his table. Both Jean and Laurent immediately snapped their heads to their father who gave them both a reprimanding look. "You're acting like children in front of the guests," he stated to them, his voice commanding them like he was their commanding officer in a military. That was what it suddenly felt like. The tension didn't decrease, it only increased from where it was and steam was beginning to show and float above Jean's head. Theresa looked over at him carefully to see him lick his bottom lip before sucking both of his lips. "Now, let's have some decorum for once in this house."

"No, father, I think we can't have that, _ever_." Jean suddenly stated, standing up. Monique's hand slipped from his arm and her questioning gaze followed him, her hand fell down to grab his hand but Jean nearly growled down at her with a sneer on his face, "Get your hand off of me." He snatched his hand away from hers and looked directly at his father. Henri looked up from his food confused, only now paying attention, his fork scraped the plate quietly but it was the only sound in the room as of now. Theresa didn't even know that he had started eating without them all.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gaston asked his son with his brow furrowed, an angry looked crossed his face.

"I am not going to marry Monique, father." He said to him lowly. Everyone at the table was silent. Meg had let go of Theresa's hand and the absence of her good friend's touch caused her to look over at her. Meg was looking up at Jean suddenly with wide eyes, wide, worried eyes. Jean matched her gaze and shook his head, "I'm sorry, Meg." His father slowly stood up from his seat, he looked between his son and the dancer astonished before his face contorted in disgust. He shook his head in disbelief before he dismissed himself from the table. Jean didn't even look at his father as his shoulder brushed his back as he was passing. He looked away from Meg before he watched his father's retreating figure.

Laurent snorted at his brother as he broke into a slight jog to catch up to his father. Then, when two of the Fortescues left, the two remaining guests made their appearance. The butler to the Fortescues with his nose up in the air and almost oblivious to what just had happened, said to the remaining dinner guests, "I present, the Vicomte and Vicomtess De Chagny." Theresa's face couldn't have fallen further when she actually saw Christine Daae and Raoul De Chagny approach the dining room.

Henri gave her a questioning glare as Meg's face also had fallen when she laid eyes on her childhood friend. "Christine," she breathed. Christine Daae looked just as beautiful as the pictures Erik had drawn and painted. She had elegant and perfect curls going down from the roots of her hair, they were pulled back away from her face. She also had big, doe-like brown eyes that glistened and glimmered with a look of innocence. She did look older than what she did look like in the drawings, but Theresa could tell that it was the same woman.

Raoul was handsome. He had long, blonde hair that reached to about his shoulders and light eyes. His angular jaw and cheekbones showed on his face. Though he seemed foppish, there was something about him that actually made Theresa slightly fond of him without even speaking a word. It was the air of his presence, really. He didn't seem pompous, nor did he seem arrogant.

Hearing Meg, Christine turned her way, her brow knitting together in confusion. "Meg?" Raoul also looked over at Meg, and just like Christine he was surprised to see her sitting in the Fortescue manor. Meg slowly nodded her head before standing up slowly. Her eyes watered slightly as she and Christine actually inched closer to each other, ignoring everyone who was sitting there. "What's wrong, Meg?" Christine asked her friend slowly, but before Meg could even answer, she buried her head in Christine's shoulder and hugged her friend that she hadn't seen at all since she married Raoul.

Christine was reluctant to hug her back, but she did. She still had that confused look on however. Raoul looked around the room now, his puzzlement becoming more and more clear. "Where is Jean?" He asked us, seeing the two empty seats at the table. Laurent shook his head at Raoul before rising and going to where his family was.

"Does this mean dinner is over?" Henri asked. His question was ignored.

* * *

"You little _slut_." Meg sat there motionless as Christine had her arm now around her. The tears under Meg's eyes were dried up and she might have ran out. Monique stood in front of her in the sitting room where the remaining six people retreated after a half hour. Henri and Theresa sat by the fireplace, Theresa stared at the dancing flames inside of it. "Do you realize what you have done?" Monique asked Meg, her voice breaking. "You ruined my marriage!"

"Leave her alone," Christine said to Monique, looking up briefly at her as she rubbed Meg's shoulder. Theresa looked over at them and stood up, but Henri took her hand to get her to stay next to him. He knew that this could turn ugly quickly if Theresa suddenly became involved, witnessing her anger before.

"Leave her alone?" Monique asked Christine in disbelief. "He is my fiancé, that she took from me!"

"She did not do anything of the sort." Theresa said from where she was, thrashing her hand out of Henri's hold before going over there. Monique narrowed her eyes at the soprano. "He is no longer your fiancé now, obviously and I think it is time that you leave the manor."

"Who are you to say that to me, signora? I think you forget your place sometimes. You are _no one_ except an untalented entertainer." Monique sneered to Theresa, causing her face to actually falter in front of her.

"Theresa—." Henri went to get her back to where she was. But he stopped when he saw Raoul standing in the archway of the sitting room with his arms crossed.

"I think Signora Baccelli is correct," Raoul said to Monique. Monique turned to face him with her brow furrowed toward him puzzled. "This is no place for you right now. I have to ask you to leave."

"You have no right to do that," Monique said to him, shaking her head at him.

"As a favour to both Mademoiselle Giry and Vicomte Fortescue, I believe I do." Monique rudely gawked at him, her face contorting as if she was just insulted. And she was. Monique wasn't about to take orders from a man who dishonoured his family by marrying an opera singer... She looked around herself, her eyes falling on Meg for a moment. An unladylike scowl showed on her face before she nodded her head, but she threw a scornful glare at each and every person in the room before she left it. Theresa stared after her with her lips pursed. Henri looked at Theresa carefully before coming up next to her.

He gently took her hand and told her, "I think it's time for us to go." He knew that it was going to be difficult now to get Theresa out of the room.

She looked over at him in disbelief before shaking her head, "No, I can't go now, Henri. I'm not going to leave Meg." She told him. Henri saw a look of determination in her hazel eyes and nearly faltered, having the sudden urge to take back what he said, but he wasn't going to. Now this wasn't any of their business and he didn't want to get Theresa into trouble that she might get into. She did have quite the mouth when she was upset.

"I think it's time." Henri insisted. Instead of saying what he wanted to, he said to her, "It's getting late."

"I have to agree with Monsieur D'Aubigne," Raoul said to her softly. Theresa looked over at him with her brow furrowed. "Meg will be fine." He told her, gripping both of her hands within his. She glanced down at them before she looked up at him confused. "There is no reason for you to really stay."

"But she's my friend," Theresa reasoned with him.

Meg spoke up from where she was, "I'll be fine, Theresa." Theresa looked sadly over to her and gave her a small smile. "I have Christine and Raoul, go back to the opera house. You need your rest." Christine, the woman she hadn't talked to in five years at least, the woman that cut ties with Meg once she married into the upper class. Theresa was slightly discouraged by hearing that her friend needed someone who basically left their friendship behind... instead of her. However, it was what she wished, and though discouraged, Theresa nodded her head to her reluctantly.

"It was a pleasure to have met you, signora." Raoul said to her, making it a point to get the soprano's attention. Theresa slowly turned her head to him. "Although I wish we met with better circumstances and had a chance to actually talk."

"Yes, I wish that too." Raoul picked up one of her hands and kissed it on top of her knuckles. Theresa kept her small smile on her face as he dropped both of her hands, she held them over her dress as she looked over to Christine Daae. "It was a pleasure, madam."

"Christine, please," she said to me with a gentle and warm smile. "I am sure we will see each other in the near future, signora."

"I am sure." Theresa replied to her shortly. She looked behind her shoulder at Henri, who was trying not to grin at Theresa. She nodded her head at everyone in the room reluctantly before walking ahead. She then waited for Henri to say his goodbyes to the other three people in the sitting room. When he came up to her finally, Theresa slowly weaved her arm with his and they both walked out of the manor.

"That was more awkward than the dinner we had with my parents," Henri stated to Theresa, hoping to see a small hint of a smile after mentioning that. Theresa kept her face straight and she looked behind her shoulder one last time at the Fortescue manor, before Henri opened the door for her. She couldn't help but feel worried for her friends as she left.

* * *

Henri and Theresa stood in front of her room for what seemed to be an hour or so. They were silent, not really looking at each other, but their hands were still held from when they entered their home away from home. Henri finally looked over at Theresa with concern, "I know that they are both of your friends, and you're worried for them." Theresa looked back at him. "But it's all going to be fine, Theresa. I know it will be, everything will work out."

"I do not think so," Theresa said to him slowly.

"I think so."

"How do you know?" Theresa asked him.

"Because, we may have our differences, but Jean and I have something in common." Henri began to look at Theresa meaningfully before he gently took both of her hands within his. Theresa smiled over at him gently as she felt his thumb graze over her knuckles. "We both care for the women that we love. It'll work out, everything will, don't worry about it. Understand?" Theresa gazed at Henri for a moment before she felt the corner of her mouth twitch up at him. She nodded her head at him slowly. "Brilliant." With that, Henri leaned toward Theresa and gently kissed her lips. Theresa felt her smile actually grow from the kiss.

When they parted, Henri said to her, "So, you know the ball that Monsieur Firmin is planning to throw for André in two months?"

"For his birthday? Yes, I do. They are saying it may be a masquerade. _Exciting_." Henri chuckled lightly when he heard the sarcasm come from Theresa. She really did not like parties being thrown at the opera house, did she? She had to leave the last one because she hated being with others.

"Well, I had hoped that may be I would be the one to escort you to the ball." Henri said to her with a smirk. Theresa smirked back at him.

"I was going to have someone else do that," she said to him playfully, taking her hands back from his before stating. Henri pouted his bottom lip at her before she said to him, "But I will settle with someone like you, I guess."

"So that's a... yay?"

"It's not a nay."

"Great then," Henri grinned at her brightly before he pecked her cheek. He then laid his hand there for a moment, stroking her high cheekbone before stating to her, "Now, get some rest. We have rehearsals in the morning."

"I will." Henri's grin then dropped and he smirked down at her before he took a step back. Theresa leaned against her back as her eyes watched Henri walk backward from her room to go to his own. She almost laughed loudly when he tripped over his feet turning around to walk away from her. When he was far enough away from her, Theresa wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned it quietly. She picked up the skirt of her dress to walk inside of her room, closing the door behind her. Theresa walked over to her vanity, taking off of her shawl, but she didn't notice the figure standing near her bed.

Theresa went to light the candle on on her vanity, but she stopped herself when she heard a familiar, melodic voice call to her, "Theresa."

The unlit match fell on the vanity as she slowly turned her head to see the Phantom move into the moonlight shining inside of her room. He was holding a red folder, with a dead rose in between his fingers. His green eyes watched her like they were eyes of a hawk watching its prey. "Erik?" Erik nodded his head slowly at Theresa, he took a few more steps toward her before he outstretched her hand toward her. Theresa looked down at the hand pointedly, her lips falling into a frown.

"Come with me." He said to her softly. Theresa was silent for a few moments, confused about what was going on right now. But... Theresa lost her train of thought once she heard her voice and she was partly dazed by Erik being in her room after waiting for him for so long. She gently placed her hand in Erik's and he gripped it gently.

_**...So what did you all think? I left it off badly, didn't I? I bet you all want to know what Erik and Theresa are going to do, right? Well, until next time my beloved readers! The wait also wouldn't be as long as last time, I promise, now that I'm not as busy. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I did do some covers for this story on the facebook page if you want to check it out. I also started a new fanfiction (kind of going against my rule about one at a time) in the Sherlock fandom with an OC. You should check it out if you like Benedict Cumberbatch (*sigh*) and BBC Sherlock.**_

_**Also, I made my decision with the sequel. Since it really would be right after the 'ending' of this story and it would most likely be short. I think it would be better if it would be part of this one, it would go along with the same plot of course, but it would probably add six more chapters to this? **_

_**See you next time!**_

_**Tiana xoxo**_


	19. Hymne A L'Amour

_**Oh wow, my fingers are in such pain right now. But anyway, worked on this chapter ALL day and trust me when I tell you this, my fingers typed faster than I could think, so this chapter turned out to be completely different for what I had planned and how I have written it may have made me finished the story a lot earlier than I had meant to. Since by the looks of things, Part one of this story is going to end with the chapter after this one... yeah, I know. And trust me, I wasn't planning that for a while now but like I said my fingers were typing faster than my mind could even comprehend so there. Well, I'm not going to bore you any more, because I am sure every one is just going to love this chapter! So without further adieu, I present, Chapter Nineteen!**_

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_Chapter XIX: Hymne A L'Amour_

"Erik," she mumbled his name, her hazel eyes looking him up and down as he dragged her out of the gondola. His expression was twisted and emotionless. On the way down to his lair, the two hadn't spoken a single word to each other. Erik, was contemplating himself what he was doing, while Theresa simply had forgotten what had just happened before she arrived to her room and was almost mesmerized by the fact that Erik finally had come to her. She carefully picked up the skirt of her dress as Erik helped her out, her eyes roaming the lair for the second time.

It was just like the first. It seemed to be almost in the same condition it was in a few months ago, when she had woken up here. There was music sprawled all over it, instruments laying carefully on top of the tables or pressed against the wall, and there were various paintings and drawings hanging from the walls. It almost brought a smile to her face when she looked at them. But when her eyes fell on the woman she just met, a frown threatened to show. Christine Daae, in all of her beauty, was still there.

Theresa tore her eyes away from her, feeling herself gulp just from the sight of her. Her smile slid off and she let go of Erik's gloved hand as he walked away from her. A look of confusion suddenly consumed her, she did _not_ understand what she was doing here. Erik took off his cape, draping it over the chair to his organ before taking a stand and moving it slightly in front of the organ.

"Erik," she said, this time with more force in her voice. He delicately placed the velvety red folder on top of the stand. "What am I doing here?" She asked him almost reluctantly.

"We were supposed to meet, I gave you a note." A note? Theresa hardly noticed a note all day today, and if she did notice the note than she wouldn't have confronted Madame Giry before dinner. She would have not done a lot of things tonight. But she felt her heart actually grow heavy, he responded back to her with a note after... what had happened? A _note_? After nights of waiting for him to see if he would come to her, nights of walking aimlessly to catch a glimpse of him somewhere, he came to her with a note?

Theresa tried not to show that what he said bothered her, not even in the slightest. But she had cast her eyes downward for a moment, folding her hands over her lap. "I did not get a note."

"I have put it in your room last night, along with this folder." Erik told her, the tone in his voice holding little to no emotion. Theresa narrowed her eyes at him confused, she picked up her skirt as she moved toward him. She was barely in her room today and when she was, she didn't notice it. Theresa—honestly—had other things on her mind. He was in her room though last night? Theresa remembered waiting up for him that night, for a little while, before she gave up on him, falling asleep because she was just so tired. Then she had the most wonderful dream with him in it—that he did come to her room.

She carefully stepped up to him and her eyebrow slowly raised. "So... it wasn't a dream then," Theresa said to him slowly. Erik looked up at her, his eyes locking with her own. "You were actually there, with me." It wasn't a question, she knew he was there now. She remembered it more clearly now just looking at him. He nodded his head to her reluctantly, but almost immediately did Theresa's face churn.

"I've waited up for you, every single night since I... I kissed you." She heard her own voice actually crack and tears prick her eyes. From that simple nod, she felt something like hurt attack her every being. He was so discreet, why was he so discreet with her? She did not understand it, nor did she really want to. Erik straightened his back, looking down at her like what she said did not affect him. "I wanted to hear from _you _all these days, I tried my earnest just to see you walking around at night, and _you_ come the night I give up on waiting for you?"

"Theresa, I—."

"No," Theresa interjected, taking a step toward him. She put a finger up, pointing straight up at him. "I thought you were _repulsed _by me, Erik. Do you know how hard it was not knowing what you thought after I did that? I was practically in turmoil, Erik! I thought you were staying away from me after that because you didn't feel like I had felt. So, the fact that you came the night I came to terms with that, after I have gone to bed and after I have fallen asleep, upsets me."

"You are angry with me," Erik said to her, hardly with an emotion in his voice just as before. Theresa almost faltered from that, what was the matter with him? She nodded her head, hesitating to do so at first. But she didn't believe herself at that moment, she could never be angry at Erik. She was more frustrated with him. Erik and her stood in front of each other, Theresa's glare faltering in the loudest silence she stood through all day. Erik visibly gulped in front of her, why was it, that she was one of the two people who was able to talk to him like she did?

Antoinette and her, always use such language, such language that was always a verbal slap in the face. No one else. And he would _allow_ them to talk to him like they do. No one else, just _them_. Theresa had the nerve of no woman when talking to him though. Antoinette would sometimes have a sharp tongue, but not like Theresa. Antoinette knew when to not speak to him. Theresa would let all of her thoughts fall out of her mouth, not putting much thought into it, and with little fear. She wasn't frightened of him at all. _Why?_

Erik still didn't understand why, he could recall how many times he had hurt her. So many times that it could put fear in any woman. But she stood there like a rock at many times. The silence between was long and tense. It became deafening, even if no words or sounds were being made.

Erik saw the tears streaming from Theresa's eyes, falling onto her cheeks. She made no effort holding them back in front of him like she would do usually. He wanted so badly to wipe them away from her beautiful hazel eyes and rub her cheek dry to get the wetness off. His chest was heaving up and down and he took a step toward her. There wasn't much space between them, not much at all. Theresa turned her face, trying hard to avoid him looking at him. Erik took another step, his breathing becoming even more uneven.

He brought up his hand and with it stroked one of her cheeks tentatively, wiping away all the moisture. Just as the night before, Theresa closed her eyes and though she flinched away at first, she leaned into it. Erik felt her shiver as he rubbed the top of her cheekbone with his thumb. "No," she mustered, but it was so soft that Erik could barely hear it. "Please no." Though she said no, Erik didn't believe it to be true. His hand retreated for a moment, only to take off both of his gloves. Theresa's eyes were still shut, her body still somewhat shaking, and when she thought Erik actually listened to her, she felt his hand again.

This time though, she didn't feel the coldness of leather, she felt his warm hand. His warm, calloused hand was on her cheek firmly, and almost possessively. Erik looked down at her, feeling her body under his touch stop shivering. Though his fingers were rough, they made her feel _safe. _They belonged to a musician, who could only produce beautiful things, who to her were almost without any flaws. Theresa almost had forgotten her anger, just from this touch.

To Erik's amazement, Theresa's hand was brought up to actually lay on top of his. He stared at her hand in disbelief as she closed her fingers over it, to keep it there. He looked down at her with his brow furrowing down at her. Her eyes slowly opened and though strained and red from tears, she smiled up at him. Erik found her so much more beautiful than ever before at that moment, and he felt a smile being curved on top of his own face. Theresa, going unnoticed by him, shook her head, but she kept her grip on his hand tight and in place.

She bit her bottom lip anxiously as she saw Erik's pale green eyes flicker down to her lips. Her eyes never left him as she noticed him tilting his head, his eyes slowly closing. Theresa's breath hitched as she felt herself, beyond her control, doing the same toward him. His lips then gently caressed hers, they were soft, just as they were before. Erik was careful as he kissed, he kept his soft and his lips, though stiff at first, just had her bottom lip in their possession. Erik's hand went to take her waist as he, for a moment, continued to suck on her bottom before Theresa's upper lip took his.

Erik parted from her mouth for a moment, his eye briefly opening to see if this was really happening, before he felt Theresa's lips passionately crash into his own. Theresa allowed Erik's hand to fall from her cheek, both of her hands going on either side of Erik's neck. He let his hand push her loose hair out of her face before he moved his lips loosely on top of hers. Theresa opened her mouth just a bit more, feeling his wet tongue slip in.

Erik then slowly moved her backward, her back hitting the table gently. Theresa moaned inside of his mouth before she felt a smile on Erik's smile. An actual smile, she couldn't remember the last time she made him smile, but it must have been a while ago. Her hands fell from his neck, going to his shoulders. Erik slowly explored her mouth, his tongue skimming hers. Her eyes slowly opened, as if to check that this was really reality and she wasn't imagining it. When she felt his white mask brush against her nose, Theresa reminded herself where they were and what happened before they were in this position. As Erik parted from her, he heard Theresa's breath nearly gone as his was.

Theresa leaned her head forward as she felt Erik tilt up her chin. Theresa's eyes went up, they remained open as Erik kissed the corner of her lip, before placing other kisses along her jawline. One of his hands skimmed her long neck. Theresa blinked several times, feeling her hot tears burn out of her eyes. She contained her bottom lip from trembling. Each kiss that she received, tore on the strings of her heart—painfully. Because now, she remembered what also happened today before and after the dinner with the Fortescues.

_Henri_. He happened to her.

If this was last night, Theresa would feel so differently. But as Erik's hand played with the neckline of her dress, Theresa couldn't stand it. "No," she said to him loudly, her eyes widening almost alarmed by the volume her voice was. Erik looked up at her from where he was. His eyes looking at her as if for the first time. Theresa's mouth parted for a moment and she found the words that she wanted to say completely evaporated. Her mouth went dry as she locked her eyes with his and she found that, the words that she wanted to say, weren't the truth at all.

She couldn't bring herself

She swallowed the moisture gathering up in her mouth before she asked him slowly, "This... kiss wasn't your intention when bringing me down here, was it?" The question was strange, even to her. She didn't understand the meaning of why she asked it. Erik didn't know what she was asking, but he shook his head no. This wasn't the intention at all. He wanted her to look at his music, read the lyrics he made especially for her. "Then... this sort of... just happened?" She said, sounding unsure of herself.

Theresa didn't even give him time to answer, instead she reached up to his mask. Erik immediately stiffened just as her hands touched it, he stared down at her pointedly. "What are you doing?" He asked her slowly, reaching up to move one of her hands away from it. But Theresa kept her hands there firmly.

"Can I?" She asked him. "Please?" One of her hands curled around the edge of his mask. Erik breathed in sharply, his eyes still narrowed down at it like it would kill him if she took it off. She pursed her lips before stating, "I'm not... going to reject you, Erik. I promise you." He didn't say a word to her, he didn't even nod to her to tell her that it was okay for her to do. He just closed his eyes quickly as he felt Theresa took off the mask, gently placing it on top of the table behind her. Erik didn't dare open his eyes, waiting for the same reaction she had more than a month ago.

But she didn't push him away, she didn't gasp or scream in front of him, instead both corners of her mouth twitched upward into a small smile. Erik's eyes still didn't open until Theresa laid her hand on top of his distorted cheek. She then noticed how his hair was lifted up from its line. Like Theresa had done with him before, Erik leaned into her touch, his hand went over hers, and he gripped it tightly. Theresa reached up with her other hand, her eyes never leaving Erik's now as she took off the wig on top of his head.

Theresa saw how thin and light his hair actually was. It was a drastic difference without the wig, but it didn't frighten her in the slightest. Erik waited for her to say something, since he was at a loss for words of what to really say to her. Her smile grew to him. "There you are," she murmured to him, "you're absolutely beautiful." Erik searched her eyes to see if he could find any sort of lies in her eyes, but to his dismay, he didn't find one. She was actually telling him the truth.

He didn't kiss her just as he had done before. He gazed her for a few moments, his eyes searching every inch of her face before they dropped to her body, covered by the heavy dress she wore. His hand fell from hers and then he took her in his arms, his face being buried in her shoulder. Theresa wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose in his shoulder and closing eyes, kissing the fabric of his shirt. When he picked up his head slowly, Theresa tilted hers toward him. Her hands fell from his neck to rest them on top of his vested chest. Underneath her hands, she could feel his chest rise and fall.

No words were said as she went to the buttons of his vest, her fingers tugging each and every one of them to get them open. Erik didn't protest her actions. He tilted his head up, still keeping her in his embrace, as Theresa pushed his now loosened vest and jacket onto the floor. Her hands went to his neck handkerchief, untying it before dropping it with the jacket. She even untied the loose knot of his shirt that held it together. This was the most she had seen of him, _ever. _Whenever she would see him, Erik was always so reserved, so covered in dark clothing that she never really imagined him in any other shape or form.

But now he was standing in front of her, locked in an embrace, more than informal in front of her than he had ever been. He wasn't the reserved Erik she had met on the roof many nights ago, he was the vulnerable Erik that she unravelled upon entering here. She moved her hands in that little opening of his shirt, letting them rest there. Erik was in disbelief, astonished that she hadn't yet pushed him away from her in disgust.

He asked her, in that melodic voice that somehow always had put her under a spell, "Is this what you want, mon chéri? The Phantom of the Opera?"

She smirked at him amused and then told him honestly, "No, I want Erik. I do not know who this Phantom is, actually." Her tone actually sounded playful to him. A grin broke out on Erik's face before he took one of her hands tightly within his before he brought it up to his lips to kiss it softly. Erik cupped her hand in both of his before he slowly led her away from the table. Theresa gently picked up the skirt of her dress, following Erik's footsteps and not daring to take her eyes off of him as he carefully manoeuvred her.

* * *

_**Nine hours later.**_

A smile was on his face as he jumped out of bed that morning, Henri had his best outfit on. When he walked through the halls of the _Opera Populaire_, there was a hop in his step. He couldn't wait to see the love of his life that morning, after writing to her a cryptic poem as he had done last time to ask her to dinner with him, Henri couldn't wait to see the eyes of his beloved once more. How they would light up and scrunch from the smile that would be on her face.

He sniffed the air almost as if he could smell her scent roaming around the halls. He wouldn't be surprised that she was up and about right now like he was. Henri's feet led him to her room, hoping that she would be in there and awake. When he turned the corner to see if Theresa was in her room, he stopped midway only to see a distressed Firmin and André talking to Henrietta, Theresa's maid.

"I walked in there this morning," Henrietta explained to them both. Henri leaned his back against the wall with his eyebrow furrowed confused. Henrietta had her hand against her forehead like she was distressed. "Like I usually do, and she would usually be sleeping or up reading her book, she would never leave her room until I have prepared her her daily bath. It _isn't_ like her. But this morning, I walk in there, and... and she's not there. The bed doesn't even looked touched, monsieur! It is almost like she never arrived to her room last night!"

"Oh, dear God," Monsieur André said, shaking his head at the news he was hearing. Henri's face contorted, befuddled, he brought her to her room the night before, he remembered clearly, and he saw her go into her room. Why would she not be in there the next day? "Perhaps she had gotten out of her room and went for a short walk?"

"It is possible, monsieur," Henrietta said to him, her voice still laced with the same worry she had in her voice when speaking with him. "But that is not like _her_, she doesn't like to leave her room like a mess. She likes to wait for me and see me in the mornings. If she were to leave in the morning, she would be in the _chapelle_ praying, but when I checked, she wasn't there. And then I came to you two."

Firmin and André looked between each other, upon hearing this they both suddenly have grown even more worried. This had happened under their management once before with Christine, and it had not gone too well after that. Firmin shook his head at André, "She may be still in the Opera House, we should not worry." He tried to sound sensible, but his voice trembled while speaking. André didn't even look over at his colleague. Firmin turned to Henrietta, "Check the practice rooms and the kitchens, madame. She may be there."

Henrietta looked between the two of them before nodding her head slowly to them both before going off to do what she was told. André and Firmin remained frozen in their spots, looking at the door to their leading soprano's room before looking at each other. "You don't think..." André started to Firmin, but trailed off. The idea that popped in his head was so outlandish that he almost didn't believe it himself.

"No, no, Signora Baccelli is smart, she knows not to be involved." _Involved in what?_ The question popped into Henri's head.

"You did not get a note in our office, did you?" André asked him worriedly, ignoring his statement about her before. Henri's brow furrowed even more, what did he mean, note? The puzzlement on his face consumed it whole. "What if he—?"

"I thought we both agreed that he is not alive any more," Firmin said through his teeth, his words almost coming out as a venomous hiss toward him. "The Phantom of the Opera is _dead_, there is no way he could have taken our leading soprano!"

"He's dead? I never agreed to that, do we remember what had happened at the auditions? When Monsieur D'Aubigne was painted and feathered," Henri actually cringed from the mere mention of the moment, "who else could have done that without being seen?"

"We said that it was a prank being pulled by the stage-hands. They do things like that to scare the performers!"

"Theresa had received a note that _day_ from him," André reasoned with Firmin, "and when someone had found the exact note, they had told us that she had met him the same night on the rooftop." Firmin didn't want to believe it, he shook his head at André. "What if he has gotten her down in his lair as we speak, Firmin!"

"He is not _alive_, André. You're being absolutely absurd! I would believe that she had fled more than believing that she had been taken by the Opera Ghost!"

"But—."

"No, _buts_, André," Firmin said to his colleague, and friend, more firmly. He straightened his back and brushed down his clothes. Before taking a final look at Signora Baccelli's room, he looked back at André meaningfully. "If you believe so strongly that the _Opera Ghost_ has taken our beloved soprano, then take it up with the ballet mistress. Maybe she would have some more information on where she is than what we could give." Henri frowned as he heard Firmin's steps walked away from André. André stood there for a moment, looking at the door before looking where Firmin had walked off to.

Henri heard André release a long sigh before he grudgingly followed the steps of Firmin. When Henri stepped out of the shadows of the wall he hid behind, he took a long look at Theresa's bedroom. He carefully looked behind his shoulders to see if anyone was watching him before he slowly walked questionably toward it. Henri wrapped his hand around the doorknob, opening the door reluctantly to peer inside of the room.

All he could see is that Henrietta was more than right, and that Theresa was definitely not in her room. In fact, it looked like she was not in the room at all since the night before, which to him, hardly made any sense because he brought her to her room... he _watched_ her go inside. Henri slowly closed the door behind him, looking around himself for a moment before walking further in her room. The frown on his face deepened further.

His blue-grey eyes skimmed every part of her room, seeing what could have been different. But then... his eyes stopped at the mirror. He narrowed his eyes at the mirror, the frown on his face turning slightly in confusion. He took a step forward and saw how the mirror was actually cracked open away from its frame. Henri's eyes stared at the crack pointedly before his hand curled around the edge of the mirror curiously. "What...?" He asked out loud. Henri then slowly pulled open the mirror, to reveal its other side.

A long, dark, and what seemed to be endless tunnel stared back at him. Curiosity burned in Henri's system, he looked around himself carefully before he slowly took a step inside of the tunnel. Turning his head toward the side of the tunnel, he saw a torch still burning in the tunnel. Henri took it in his hand, leaving the mirror actually opened for others as he moved carefully through the tunnel.

* * *

_**Still there? Like I said, the chapter after the next will be the end of Part One of this story, since it seems like I just completely made it sooner than I have expected it to be. We'll see. I was strongly considering to change the rating of this chapter so I could do a lot more with it (you know what more I am talking about) but I didn't think it right to do that without any warning whatsoever. So if I do decide to change the rating of this story, you will be warned. Because I was going to later on, but this scene just came a lot faster than I had expected it to be.. so yeah. I'm babbling now, so anyways I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Sorry about the cliffhanger!**_

_**See you next time!  
Tiana xoxo**_


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